


Outsiders

by tarinumenesse



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crushes, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, First Love, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Male My Unit | Byleth, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, Relationship(s), Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-10-29 05:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarinumenesse/pseuds/tarinumenesse
Summary: Claude arrived in Fódlan with grand plans and secrets. He did not expect the people he met to be just as ambitious, or anticipate the events that would follow. As he adjusts to life first as a student at the Officers Academy and then Sovereign Duke of the Alliance, he forms uneasy bonds with his fellow house leaders and an odd friendship with his mysterious professor. But the person he is most drawn to is a princess who will not be called by her title and seems free of all the restrictions the people around her place on themselves.A series of vignettes about growing love and friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a few weeks ago after finishing the Golden Deer route. It grew from my curiosity about how Claude would react to finding another foreigner at the academy as well as the absolutely adorable support conversations between him and Petra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude starts at the Officers Academy as a self-identified outsider with secrets. But he quickly realizes that everyone around him has their own things to hide, especially his fellow house leaders. And then there is the mercenary who becomes a professor, who is a stranger to everything his students know and believe. But the person he is most fascinated by is the only other foreigner at the academy.

#### I: First Introductions

Watching his new classmates was fascinating. All Claude’s research had not prepared him for the diverse range of personalities and temperaments at the academy. The most interesting people were his fellow house leaders, Edelgard and Dimitri. He could tell that there was so much more to them, simmering under the surface, but neither of them were forthcoming about themselves. All Claude knew for certain was that they took their positions very seriously.

Claude stood outside the Golden Deer classroom, leaning against a column with his arms crossed over his chest and one foot resting flat against the bricks. The position gave him a good view of the courtyard where his fellow students were gathering as they made their way to the classrooms. It was still a few days until the formal classes of this semester began, but Claude already saw cliques forming, the friendships that would define the coming year for each person.

Hilda was chattering at Marianne, who seemed content to stand there and offer a self-deprecating comment every so often. Raphael was talking to one of the Black Eagles, Caspar. They were getting fired up about something. The two girls from the Blue Lions – Mercedes and Annette – had their heads close together. And further down the lawn Dimitri stood with his enormous puppy from Duscur. The prince of Faerghus was defending himself from apparent attempts by the giant to…check his temperature?

Claude shook his head as he looked away, not certain he wanted to know what was going on there.

It was as he did so that Claude saw the strange mercenary who had helped save him, Edelgard and Dimitri from bandits earlier in the week. Byleth, was that his name? Anyway, the mercenary was walking along the colonnade beside the courtyard, looking a little lost.

Now there was someone worth investigating. Earlier that morning Professor Manuela had gathered the house leaders together to inform them that the mercenary had been hired as their new professor. She had suggested with a cheerful clap of her hands that they keep the knowledge to themselves for a “bit of fun”. Claude was as happy as the next conspirator to keep the secret, knowing it would definitely make for some amusing conversations when the truth was revealed. Especially considering the way Hilda had looked the newcomer up and down when they returned to Garreg Mach.

If Claude recalled correctly, their new professor had displayed an astonishing unfamiliarity with the Church of Seiros and Garreg Mach. Claude had even overheard him speaking with his father, asking questions about the church’s beliefs, the monastery, and Rhea. It was unheard of for a resident of Fódlan to be so clueless.

At least his persistent questions demonstrated a mind as curious as Claude’s. He suspected he would get on well with the new professor.

As the professor came closer to the classrooms, Claude lifted a hand in greeting. The professor immediately turned his steps and made a beeline for Claude. Familiarity was a comforting thing when faced with this many strange faces. Claude could empathize with that.

“Well, well,” Claude said as the professor joined him. “Scored a teaching gig here, did ya? Talk about a great first impression.”

The professor’s expression didn’t change. It had not changed once since Claude first met him. It was so…intriguing. His narrow eyes made him look made him looked permanently dissatisfied with the world, Claude thought, but he was attractive despite that. From the corner of his eye Claude saw that Hilda had abandoned her tirade and was looking in their direction with great interest. Yes, the new professor was tall and mysterious. Worthy of attention.

“I didn’t expect it,” the professor said in response to Claude. His voice was gentle, jarring with the fact that he was clearly a seasoned mercenary. “My father is joining the Knights of Seiros, so I thought I would be do the same. I never imagined they would want me to teach.”

“I suppose they think you’re a bit young to be a full knight,” Claude replied.

The professor just shrugged. It was an odd reaction. Claude had hoped that the comment would encourage him to clear up the mystery of his age, but he must want to keep that information close. After all, he couldn’t be more than 20 or 21, and that would make him the same age as the oldest of the students he would be teaching.

“I guess that means I’d better introduce myself properly,” Claude said when it became clear the professor wasn’t going to respond. “I’m Claude von Riegan. I’m from the ruling house of the Leicester Alliance, but don’t worry too much about that madness.”

“Byleth,” the professor responded. “Eisner.”

He added his family name after a moment of thought. Claude noted that away for later. Most of the students here were quicker with their family names than their given names.

“I’m guessing you don’t know which class you’ll be teaching yet, do you?” Claude said, lifting himself off the column and standing straight as he stretched out his arms. “I bet you’d like ours. We’re not as…difficult as the other two.”

“I don’t know much about any of the houses.”

Manuela must have decided to send the poor professor out blind.

“Have you met the folks from the Golden Deer House yet?” Claude asked, wanting to help make things easier on him. “Care to know more about anyone?”

The professor looked straight at Claude with those blank eyes. A chill ran up Claude’s spine. It was like the professor was looking into his soul. There was something so completely odd about this one.

“How about you?” the professor asked.

Claude laughed. Caught in his own trap.

“Piqued your interest, have I? As luck would have it, I’m pretty curious about you as well. But what’s life without…”

Claude’s words were knocked out of him as something collided with him.

“Oh! Please take my apologies!”

Claude turned to see a girl standing there. She was definitely not from Fódlan. She had dark skin like him, but was not Almyran. The prayer mark under her eye revealed that, as did the wealth of long, purple hair pulled back in a braid. But she was obviously a student at the academy. Her uniform gave her away on that account.

She bowed to Claude, her hand raised to her chest.

“I was not keeping the watching of where I was going,” she said in her heavily accented, but undeniably pleasant, voice.

“No worries,” Claude replied. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new at the academy?”

The girl tilted her head to the side, looking at him quizzically.

“But I have been seeing you,” she said. “You are Claude von Riegan, leader of the Golden Deer House and heir of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance.”

Claude winked at her. “So I am. And who are you?”

“I am called Petra.” She bowed again. “I am from Brigid.”

“Ah!” Claude exclaimed. “I suspected you were not from Fódlan. You’ve come a long way to study here. I guess this school is more famous than I thought?”

Petra blinked at him, as though unsure of whether he was asking her the question, then glanced at the professor.

“Oh, right. Petra, this is…Byleth,” Claude said. “I suspect you’ll be seeing him around a bit this year.”

“I am pleased to be meeting with…no, I am pleased to have met you,” Petra said. “Do you know what house you will be attending?”

The professor shook his head.

“Oh.” Petra smiled. “I am in the Black Eagles House. I am hoping…I hope I will see you again.”

Petra continued on her way through the courtyard towards the Black Eagle classroom. Claude watched her go. He hadn’t known there was someone else at the academy from outside Fódlan. He had to admit, now he was almost as curious about Petra as he was about the professor.

#### II: An Imperial Princess

The three houses did not have many classes together, but about four times a week the Golden Deer joined with one of the others for weapons training. Claude had noticed that after the events of Lord Lonato’s rebellion, his classmates had taken to such opportunities with more gusto. Being faced with the horrible reality of battle had motivated them to improve their own skills for the sake of survival.

Today they were training with the Black Eagles, since the Blue Lions were away from the monastery on their mission. Claude stood to the side of the training grounds, his bow held loosely in his hand. He wanted to study Hubert’s fighting style, but his eyes were continuously and traitorously drawn to the place where Teach was showing Petra some tricks with the sword.

Teach gestured for Petra to attack and demonstrated a parry that allowed him to slip in under her guard. Petra’s eyes widened in understanding. Teach stepped back, gesturing Petra back as well, before attacking. Petra copied the parry perfectly, ducking under Teach’s guard and holding the training sold to his side.

They were so damned graceful. Claude had never been the type who could pull of those light-footed, dance-like sword moves. He was soft-footed, but of the manner more suited to sneaking up on people than pirouetting around them.

“You seem quite engrossed.”

Claude looked at Edelgard as she glided up beside him. She crossed her arms, her eyes following the line of his gaze towards Teach and Petra.

“You are fortunate that the professor chose to lead your house,” Edelgard said. “He is…quite talented, is he not?”

“I know you wanted him to join the Empire,” Claude said. “Unfortunately for you, he gets on well with the Golden Deer. I don’t think that you’ll be able to lure him away, if that is your plan.”

“Not at all,” Edelgard said. “I would never compel someone to go against the call of their heart.”

“Wouldn’t you now?”

Edelgard looked at Claude, one perfect eyebrow raised.

Claude had only been to north Faerghus once in his life, and he had near frozen to death. Edelgard reminded him of that biting wind and the heavy chill that stung in your throat.

“You must have a very low opinion of me, Claude,” Edelgard said. “I had hoped that after spending this much time together you would understand me better.”

“Come on, Princess,” Claude said. “It’s not like you trust me either. I think our wariness of each other is well known.”

“You are not wary of Dimitri,” Edelgard replied. “What makes me different?”

Claude’s attention was drawn back to Petra as her laughter echoed through the grounds. She was on her knees in the dirt, having clearly stumbled while practicing. Teach reached out to help her back to her feet.

After meeting Petra, Claude’s curiosity about her presence at the academy had driven him to the library. There he had discovered a history of conflict and subjugation between the Adrestian Empire and Brigid. It hadn’t taken Claude long to figure out the likely reason Petra was here. And therein his distrust of Edelgard had originated. Not that he would reveal any of that to the Imperial princess.

“Who says I’m not wary of Dimitri?” Claude asked, turning to face Edelgard fully. He lifted his bow and ran his finger along the string. “I don’t know him any better than I know you. Maybe you just have a propensity to see in others what you expect rather than what is there.”

Edelgard was unfazed by this accusation. She met his gaze squarely. For the first time, Claude realized that she would, on her ascent, be able to cow a room full of the stodgy old men that made up her father’s council.

“Of all the students at this academy, you are the only one who appeared out of nowhere,” she said. “Your right to the Sovereign Dukedom is questionable at best. I have no obligation to explain anything to you at all.”

With that, Edelgard spun on her heel and walked towards the rack of training axes. Claude watched her go, wondering if there was any way he could learn her secrets. It would probably take…

“Claude.”

Claude looked up to see Teach coming towards him. His training sword was gone, probably returned to the rack on the other side of the grounds where Petra continued training alone.

“Are you slacking off?” Teach asked.

Claude laughed. “Of course not. I was taking a well-earned break.”

“Well, if you are rested up then I want you to give me some archery tips,” Teach said. “It’s never been my strong point, but I would like to improve.”

“Sure thing, Teach.”

#### III: General Requests

“Excuse me, Claude.”

Claude relaxed his bow and turned towards Petra. She was standing just behind him, a training bow in her hand and an armguard fastened over the sleeve of her shirt.

Reining in his excitement, Claude rested his bow on his shoulder and grinned at her. He had been hoping that at some point, Petra would approach him on purpose, unlike their first meeting, and talk to him. He had so many things to ask her. So many things to learn about her. But he had not wanted to make the first move after his conversation with Edelgard.

“Petra,” he said. “Lovely to see you this fine morning.”

Petra blinked. “Lovely to see you, too,” she said slowly. “I am hoping you can be showing me some of your tricks.”

“Oh?”

“I was seeing…saw your showing to the professor last month. And I am…I heard about your fighting in the Holy Maw…Mausoleum from Ignatz. I am thinking that your teaching will be useful for improving my skills.”

Claude nodded. He stepped off the mark, gesturing for Petra to take his place and face the target.

“It would be my pleasure,’ he said. “What do you want to know?”

Petra spread her feet and notched her arrow.

“You use your bow differently to the other people of Fódlan,’ she said. “I want you to teach me your way of shooting.”

“That is a very general request, Princess.”

Petra had been lifting her bow, but at his words she lowered it again, a surprised look in her eyes.

“Why are you calling me that?” she asked.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“It is truth, but it is not something that should be used to call me,” Petra said.

“Why not?”

Petra pursed her lips for a long moment.

“The reasons are many,” she finally answered.

Claude wondered if she had answered thus because she was unable to explain the reasons in their shared language, or if it was because she did not want to tell him. He couldn’t dismiss the feeling that it had something to do with Edelgard and the reason Petra was at the academy.

“OK, if you don’t want to be called that, I’ll just keep calling you Petra,” Claude said.

Petra smiled. “I will be liking that more.”

Claude shoved aside the effect her smile had on him. He didn’t have time for warm feelings in his chest. He had a world to change.

But, helping a princess of Brigid improve her bow technique might just help him achieve that goal.

Claude put down his bow and stepped up beside Petra. Her expression turned serious and she drew the bow. Claude put his hands over hers and adjusted the angle of her shot.

“I’ve noticed that you have amazing aim when you are close to a target,” he said. “I guess that comes from hunting. But you miss long shots. I can help you with that.”

Claude released Petra’s hands and stepped backwards.

“On one condition.”

Petra titled her head to the side. Claude drew an arrow from the bin and twirled it around his fingers.

“A general request,” he said. “Tell me about Brigid. I’ve never been there. I’m curious what it’s like.”

Petra’s face lit up.

“Oh, that is something that I am happy to be doing!” she exclaimed.

#### IV: Naps

Claude looked around. There was no one in sight and no one he could hear approaching. The woods were quiet of all noise except the usual rustle of birds and animals. The breaths of the world as it existed around him.

The ground was covered in luscious, soft grass that was cushiony under his boots.

“This looks like an ideal place to take a nap,” Claude said to himself. “Only one way to know for sure.”

Claude threw himself onto the ground. As he settled, lying on his back with his hands under his head, he sighed blissfully. It had been a week since they had recovered the stolen Lance of Ruin. It had been a tough battle, made more difficult because Sylvain had insisted on accompanying them. Claude would not quickly forget Sylvain’s face as he watched his brother turn into the Black Beast. Or the emotionless resolve when the red-haired noble had dealt the killing blow.

Claude did not think he would have been able to do such a thing. Kill his own flesh and blood. Even if that flesh and blood had turned into a murderous, rampaging beast. Those Faerghus nobles were clearly bred of a heartless lot.

The journey back to the monastery had taken several days, slowed by a wound Raphael had sustained after getting too close to the beast. Once back at Garreg Mach there had been clean up and reporting and chores to deal with. And on the first day of the week they were back in class.

All that added up to putting Claude in need of a long, undisturbed nap.

“Ahh, there’s a nice breeze today too…” Claude breathed as he closed his eyes and listened to the leaves rustling.

“Claude?”

Claude swung up into a seated position.

“Huh?” he said, looking around in confusion. There was no one in the clearing except himself.

“Why are you taking a sleep on the ground, Claude?”

Claude looked up. He was lying in front of a grand old tree, with a trunk twisting around itself up to the heavens. His immediate thought was that the tree was talking to him, but of course that was impossible, and a moment later he realized he knew the voice.

“Is that…Petra?” he asked.

Some of the tree’s leaves began to tremble and bounce, and then a flash of purple and black descended from the tree. Petra landed on her feet, dropping into a crouch to absorb the recoil before gracefully unfurling herself and standing. She looked down at Claude with one hand on her hip.

Claude peered up at her, blinded by the glaring sun behind her.

“Were you up in that tree the whole time?” he asked.

Petra shrugged.

“It is safe to take sleep in the tree’s top. Why would you choose the dangerous ground instead?”

Claude shaded his eyes to try and see her better. But the sun was too bright, so he gave up and moved to push himself to his feet. He was surprised when Petra held out a hand to help him, but accepted it nonetheless.

Standing, Claude looked up at the tree, trying to guess its height.

“Your logic is sound,” he said. “But how is one supposed to get up there without losing the sleepies?”

Petra giggled. “I do not know what is meant by the sleepies, but getting to the tree’s top is easy. And you will be using all of your energy, so that good sleep will find you in the tree.”

“That makes a certain amount of sense. But it’s not as relaxing as a good ground sleep.”

To be honest, Claude had never thought of sleeping in a tree. But it was an intriguing notion that sparked all sorts of questions in Claude’s mind. Would it be useful for ambushing? How did one find a comfortable position on the branch? Was it even possible to sleep so high up in the air? What prevented a quick tumble and sudden stop?

Petra smiled, as though she understood his thoughts.

“Give it some trying,’ she suggested. She moved as though to leave, then stopped abruptly and added, “And do not think with too much hardness when you return to the ground. Feel it. If you stop for thinking, your arms will get heavy.”

“Okay,” Claude said, stretching his arms above his head.

Petra watched him curiously. She looked so endearing when she was confused, with her head tipped to the side like a cat.

Claude shook his head, wondering where that thought had come from.

“That all is way more thought than I had hoped to give this nap of mine,” he explained. “But I’m not one to give up before even trying. Here goes nothing!”

Claude approached the tree and searched for possible handholds. The trunk was mostly smooth, save for the grooves that made it look like several trees twisted around each other. It would be a tricky climb.

Glancing behind him, he saw that Petra was still standing there. If she had left, he could have called it a day. But now he had to proceed. With a sigh Claude grabbed a likely groove and hauled himself up.

It was not supposed to be difficult. But it was. Surely climbing trees should be like climbing anything else. But then, Claude had to admit, usually when he climbed something he used a convenient set of stairs. He couldn’t remember a time he had been required to scale something.

When he looked up he discovered that the tree seemed to have gained height. Had he made any progress at all? He looked back down to discover he was only a few feet from the ground.

“I have not known a noble who can climb trees,” came Petra’s voice. “Is this a weakness of Fódlan nobles?”

Claude stretched his arm up, searching for another handhold.

“Nope, not a weakness…” he called. “I just…how do I…”

The hand holding the tree slipped. Before Claude knew what was happening, he was falling backwards. He twisted himself in mid-air, managing to hit the ground in a poor imitation of a roll that Teach had been showing them.

Petra was beside him in a moment, reaching out to help him sit up. Claude winced, noting a tenderness in his shoulder.

“You should be quitting,” Petra said as she sat back on her heels. “It is a danger to be falling from such a height.”

Claude looked at her. She seemed a little concerned, but also amused. He felt a flush rise on his neck and ears. Could he have embarrassed himself any more in front of her?

“You’re right. I think that’s enough for today,” he said, trying to gather some dignity as he stood.

“Is your shoulder hurt?” Petra asked as she casually adjusted his cape back over his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine.” Claude sighed. “This might sound like an excuse, but we don’t have a lot of tall tress where I grew up. This is all new to me.”

Petra giggled again.

“You should take your sleep on the ground,” she said. “I will take mine in the tree.”

#### V: Swapping Classes

Since the incident with the tree, Claude had found it difficult to look at Petra without embarrassment. He called off his investigation into her presence at the academy to try and stop thinking about her, but he found it had the exact opposite effect. After a long reflection in the nap place in the woods, Claude came to the conclusion that he was growing fond of the princess from Brigid.

All of that was driven from his mind as the monastery was gripped in the frantic search to find Flayn. Claude, like everyone else, was spurred by Seteth’s overpowering worry for his sister to follow every lead.

It was on a day in the third week of the month that Claude threw open the professor’s office door and marched in with a request that they search Professor Jeritza’s room. He stopped abruptly when he saw Petra standing in front of the professor, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

Teach was leaning against his desk, arms crossed, a frown on his face. It would have made Claude worry except that Teach was most often frowning. And it was impossible to think of anyone being angry with or hurting Petra. She was perfect.

Claude cleared his throat and crossed his arms in an imitation of Teach.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Claude,” Teach said, “Petra has a request. It makes sense for you to hear it too, since you are house leader.”

Petra nodded in agreement.

“Let’s hear it then,” Claude said, his interest genuinely piqued.

“I know that we must be focusing on finding Flayn, but I have thought for long moons and cannot be waiting longer,” Petra said. “I was asking the professor a kindness. I am feeling that changing to the Golden Deer House would give me great benefit.”

Claude’s heart thumped. He wanted to tell it to calm down, but if he started an argument with his organs in front of Teach and Petra, most likely they would take him to the infirmary. It was just a simple request to change class, after all, and there was no reason to think that Petra was changing to the class of which he happened to be house leader just because he was house leader. And he just had a crush. There was no reason to think she had one too.

“I’m sure the great benefit would be ours alone,” Claude said. “Don’t you think, Teach?”

Teach straightened.

“If that is truly what you want to do, Petra,” he said, walking around his desk and opening a drawer, “then I need you to fill in this form. The request must be approved by your house’s professor as well. And perhaps you should discuss it with Edelgard before you make a final decision.”

A shadow passed across Petra’s face.

“I will be doing so, Professor,” she said.

“Then, as long as everyone approves, it would be a delight to have you in the Golden Deer.”

Petra’s face lit with a brilliant smile. Claude felt a grin breaking out across his own face in response, until he managed to mentally slap it away.

Teach pulled one of the forms from the desk drawer and passed it to Petra.

“Bring it back to me when it’s signed and I’ll have you transferred,” Teach said.

Petra bowed enthusiastically.

“I have so much gratitude!” she said to Teach. “I am still without…still not used to the speaking of your language. But I have full comprehension. Please, Professor… Teach me all of the things you know!”

Petra spun to leave, but paused when she found herself facing Claude. She offered him a smaller smile. Claude accepted it with all his heart.

“And I am hoping also to be learning more from you, Claude,” she said.

“I’ll teach you anything you want,” Claude said.

Petra nodded and hurried out of the room. Claude was left staring at the place she had been, wondering what the hell he had just said.

“If she does transfer, you’ll have to keep a close eye on her, Claude.”

Drawn by Teach’s voice from his self-mockery at his apparent inability to function around someone he fancied, Claude looked back at Teach to see him taking a seat at his desk.

“Why do you say that?” Claude asked.

Teach regarded him with an imperfect expression that tended towards indulgence.

“You know better than that by now, Claude,” he said. “Don’t expect me to believe that you don’t know the reason Petra is here at the academy. I doubt that the Black Eagles will take kindly to her request to swap classes.”

“She should be free to do whatever she wants,” Claude burst out.

Teach folded his hands on the desk.

“I agree, of course, but I’m not certain that Edelgard will feel the same way. In any case, this is not really a matter I should be discussing with another student. I presume you came here to ask me something?”

Frustrated by Teach’s go-to excuse of not discussing sensitive issues with a student, Claude contented himself with storing away his statement for future reflection. At the same time his original reason for bursting into the office resurfaced with greater urgency. Everyone was sick with fear considering how long Flayn had been missing. Claude owed it to her not to delay a moment longer.

“Teach, I think we need to talk to Jeritza. He’s suspicious, to say the least.”

Teach nodded.

“I couldn’t agree more, Claude,” he said, getting to his feet.

#### VI: Bringing Down the Walls

The Golden Deer house had taken to victory with fervor. Although Claude had suggested the feast as an opportunity for the houses to bond, his own classmates were preventing any progress by indulging in repeated cheers of the Alliance’s mottos and unashamed loser bashing.

“Freedom and independence built on friendship and alliance!” Raphael bellowed across the dining hall.

Leonie whooped. Flayn laughed and tried to imitate her. Seteth (her brother, truly?) cast her a disapproving look. Meanwhile, Lysithea rolled her eyes and tried to continue to read the book she had snuck into the dining hall, all while delicately devouring an entire cake.

Petra was sitting next to Claude. He was aware of every movement she made, as though he had developed an extra sense.

Beside Petra was Dorothea. The two girls had struck up a strong friendship before Petra transferred houses. And now Dorothea was eying Claude with a little too much knowledge and understanding. Of all people, he did not want her to know about his crush.

“You two were quite intimidating on the battlefield,” Dorothea commented nonchalantly as she pushed her food around her plate. “I suspect you could have taken us down alone, without all the archers you were commanding.”

“It’s all due to Teach,” Claude said. “Without his command, I’m certain it would have been a victory for the Black Eagles.”

Dorothea twittered.

“Oh no,” she said, “you can’t be so hard on yourself. Or generous to the Black Eagles. You and I both know that you and the professor have stolen one of our best students.”

Petra’s cheeks reddened.

“Do not be praising me, Dorothea,” she said. “Everyone was doing…did very well in battle without me.”

“I think Edelgard definitely felt your loss,” Dorothea replied. “And I am sure that Claude appreciates his good fortune more every day.”

Yes, that was definitely his cue to leave. Claude pushed himself up from the table and picked up his empty plate.

“It has been delightful, ladies,” he said with a bow.

Dorothea grinned.

“I’m sure it has,” she said.

Claude escaped quickly, walking past the cavorting Golden Deer. He paused at the next table where Dimitri was sitting quietly, looking fairly grey. Dedue sat beside him. His disapproving silence was heavy in the air. Dimitri seemed to be collapsing under it.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Claude asked.

Dimitri looked up. Claude noticed the tension in his movements and the untouched plate of food in front of him.

“I am fine,” he said. “It is just one of my persistent headaches. I do not wish to put a damper on this evening’s festivities, so it is difficult to retire to my room.”

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Claude replied. “Your health is a high price for a simple party.”

A pained smile rose on Dimitri’s face.

“Thank you for your concern, Claude,” he said. “I truly appreciate it. But I will remain here for now.”

Dedue shifted. Claude looked at him to see a combination of gratitude and frustration in his eyes. Claude nodded and left them to it, wondering again at the strange sense of duty that drove the students from Faerghus. Especially the ones of noble birth.

Claude crossed the dining hall to the window looking onto the scullery. Several of the priests and monks had generously taken on the washing up to give the students a rest after their march back from Gronder Field. Claude had accepted their offer gladly, since it gave everyone a chance to mingle freely without having to rush away for scullery duty.

As Claude joined the line to drop his plate, Edelgard slipped in behind him.

“Congratulations again,” she said.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to say that so many times this week, Edelgard,” Claude replied.

“You are not sorry,” Edelgard said as she passed her plate to the monk behind the window. “You know you earned it. The tactics and strength you showed during the mock battle were exemplary. You commanded the entire battlefield. Honestly, Dimitri and I never stood a chance.”

“You flatter me, princess,” Claude said.

“I don’t believe you think that either. I believe you see yourself as entirely deserving of any praise anyone gives you.”

“Do you consider me that egotistical?” Claude asked as they walked towards the dining room entrance.

“You have given me no cause to think otherwise.”

Claude laughed. He had to hand it to Edelgard. She could be ruthless.

“How is Petra?”

The question caught Claude off guard. He stopped and turned to Edelgard. The princess stopped too, putting a hand on her hip as she challenged Claude with her stare.

“Why do you ask?” Claude questioned.

“Is it not natural to be curious how a former member of my house is faring now she is part of the Golden Deer?”

“You could ask her yourself,” Claude pointed out.

Edelgard shifted her weight, pursing her lips.

“I do not think that is a good idea,” she said. “I do not want people questioning my involvement with her.”

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the reason she is here, would it?” Claude asked.

Edelgard harrumphed.

“You will need to be subtler than that if you want to pry the Empire’s secrets from me, Claude. But do not misinterpret my interest in Petra. I truly wish to know that she is doing well in her new class.”

Claude crossed his arms. He still wasn’t sure of Edelgard’s motives, but in honesty he had no good reason to refuse to answer.

“She is doing remarkably well,” he said. “In fact, you could say she is thriving under Teach’s guidance.”

Edelgard nodded.

“I am glad to hear that. Please continue to take good care of her. Excuse me.”

The Imperial princess left, leaving Claude more curious than ever.

#### VII: Dancing

When Claude took Teach’s hand and pulled him onto the dancefloor, a cheer went up from the Golden Deer. Amongst them, Claude could see Petra clapping and cheering. She watched as Claude drew Teach around the floor, past where Dimitri and Edelgard danced with their partners.

Well, until Ferdinand appeared and claimed her hand. A swarm of resentment rose in Claude’s stomach.

Of course, Claude had wanted to ask Petra to dance. He had been watching her talking with Marianne and Hilda, trying to summon the courage to approach her, when he noticed Teach standing alone. Teach was a much easier target than Petra. In fact, Claude suspected anyone would have been an easier target. He was capable of asking every single person in the room to dance except the one with whom he wanted to dance the most.

Ah, who would have suspected that Claude von Riegan would be bashful around his crush? Certainly not Claude von Riegan.

After a minute or two Teach drew away from him.

“That’s enough,” Teach said with a laugh. “If you hadn’t noticed, I really don’t know how to dance.”

Teach had indeed stepped on Claude’s foot several times, but that had probably been because they were both trying to lead.

“You were doing fine,” Claude replied. “Although, perhaps I shouldn’t be keeping you from all the lovely maidens watching with envy.”

Teach laughed again.

“I doubt I will be in high demand,” he said. “Besides, it’s not appropriate. You should dance with some of your classmates.”

Teach ducked away through the crowd. That eager to escape, huh?

Claude stood alone in the middle of the dancefloor, watching the couples spin around him. He knew these dances thanks to the forethought of his mother, who had taught them to him while he whined about not being about to practice combat with Nader instead. Nonetheless, this ball felt foreign. He was much more accustomed to the grand feasts of Almyra. And although he would never admit it in this company, he preferred them. At the feast everyone was equal. Here, a weird power play was enacted between men and women, the older and the younger.

As Petra and Ferdinand passed, Claude couldn’t help but wonder if Petra also felt at odds in this setting. That stray thought made him wonder if perhaps his attraction to her was based on the fact that she was the only other outsider at the academy.

Claude shrugged and left the floor, fleeing to the courtyard for some fresh air. He loitered there for as long as possible, but Hilda had grown too observant of his movements and it was only a few minutes before she found him.

“Claude,” she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him back towards the hall, “you shouldn’t be out here alone. The whole point of tonight is to have fun!”

“I am having fun,” Claude said. “I just need to temper that fun with...”

“Poo,” Hilda interrupted. “If you aren’t dancing with anyone else, you can dance with me.”

Claude let Hilda pull him into the proper posture for the dance. She was still scolding him about something, but Claude found it hard to understand what she was saying. Across the room Petra was dancing with Dorothea. The two of them were laughing and making an absolute mess of the steps. But the pure joy they displayed was eye-catching. In fact, they were drawing the gazes of most of the males in the room.

“That’s what I want,” Claude announced to Hilda, nodding towards them

“What?”

Hilda looked over her shoulder. When she turned back, it was with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous expression.

“Oh wow,” she said. “Whatever could you mean by that?”

“No,’ Claude said, surprised by how quickly Hilda had jumped to conclusions. “Not them themselves. I mean what they represent.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a creep,” Hilda pronounced.

“Trust you, Hilda, not to understand a grand vision when you see one clearly illustrated in front of you.”

“Whatever, Claude. You should focus on the steps now.”

#### VIII: Dealing with Sorrow

Claude stood at the open door to Teach’s office. The professor had not even noticed him. He was staring at a book that lay on the desk in front of him, silent tears running down his face. It was disconcerting, seeing Teach cry. He had always been so emotionless and still before.

With a sigh, Claude turned away, deciding that perhaps it was best not to bother Teach now. Heck, he was certain he wouldn’t want people prying if he was mourning the loss of his father. Instinctively he knew that nothing anyone said would soothe that type of sorrow.

As someone who prided themselves on their words, that was a hard pill to swallow.

A stillness had fallen across the entire monastery since Jeralt’s death. Everyone, regardless of house or profession, adored Teach and felt his loss as their own. The Black Eagles had defaulted to expressing regrets and guilt since Monica had been one of them, while Claude had noticed the Blue Lions trying to anticipate Teach’s needs. Professors Manuela and Hanneman had taken on some of Teach’s classes. For those ones where Teach was present, the Golden Deer were being extra quiet.

Except Leonie. Leonie had not gone to class since her public outburst. She had cornered the professor in the dining hall, demanding to know what Teach had ever done for Jeralt and questioning whether Teach ever even cared about him. Teach had stood there, taking the abuse without any visible reaction. Finally, Hilda had stepped in and tried to calm Leonie. At that point Leonie stormed away, leaving Teach frozen in the center of the room. Eventually Claude had carefully guided him out of the hall. Back to his room where the professor had sat down on his bed and stared at a blank section of the wall without speaking a word.

Claude sighed. If he could do nothing for Teach, he should probably visit Leonie and see how she was faring.

“Claude.”

Claude looked up. Petra stood a little way down the hall from him. She rubbed her left arm with her hand.

“You are coming from the professor’s office?” she asked.

Claude nodded as he reached her and stopped.

“He’s reading that book again,” Claude said. “I wish I knew what it was.”

Petra tilted her head and studied Claude.

“You are worrying,” she said.

Claude shook his head.

“I don’t know what to do. I want to help him, but I don’t know the way.”

“There is nothing you can be doing that will help,” Petra said.

“That’s the problem!”

Petra smiled.

“Claude is always frustrated when he cannot help people,” she commented.

Claude’s face burned. Not just because of her observation, but also the sudden urge to reach out and take her hand. He wanted to say something to her, but once again his words were failing him. What was one supposed to say in these situations?

“I am not thinking that many people know, but I was losing my father too,” Petra said.

Claude did know. He had read about it in a recent annual in the library. But he did not want to tell Petra that he had been researching her country, so he stayed silent.

“When he was dying…died, I was very angry. No one could say anything to make the feelings go away. What I did learn was that when a greatly loved person is gone, the true thing that is needed is a friend. The friend should be silent because there is nothing to say. But if the friend is there, then it is more easy…easier.”

“I see.”

It made sense to him, but the thought of being that friend made him feel uncomfortable. Sitting alone with someone without talking was a foreign concept.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “I’ve never lost someone, so I don’t really know what one is supposed to do in these situations.”

“But I am hearing your grandfather is sick,” Petra said.

Claude rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, yes, he is. But he will last for quite a while longer. He probably doesn’t really want to give the dukedom over to me. You know, considering how much trouble I am.”

“You are not being trouble,” Petra laughed. “You are just being curious.”

Claude grinned.

“Curious, eh? Some people would consider that the bigger crime.”

Claude’s grin vanished as he heard a muffled sob resonate down the hallway. Petra looked past Claude towards Teach’s office. She stepped up to Claude and rested a light hand on his arm.

“I will be being a friend,” she said. “Maybe you can come back and be one later.”

Claude nodded. Petra smiled gently at him and disappeared into Teach’s office.

#### IX: Friends

Everything Claude had thought was wrong. To think he had not seen the truth of what Edelgard was planning. He hadn’t even come close. And now, Fódlan was on the brink of war. Every day they sat here in Garreg Mach, doing nothing, the Emperor (how strange it was to think of her like that, when he and Dimitri still waited to the side) drew closer with her army.

Looking down at the monastery from the Goddess Tower, the world was deceptively peaceful. But below the Knights of Seiros were panicking. The preparations to defend Garreg Mach were moving slower than necessary, even with the help of those students who hadn’t run away at the threat of war. It added to Claude’s feeling of being exposed and trapped, like a deer unsure of the location of its stalker.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Claude glanced over his shoulder to see Teach at the top of the stairs.

“Hey Teach,” he said.

“Claude, you know…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Claude said distractedly, turning back to gaze across the monastery. “Students aren’t allowed up here. But I guess those sorts of rules seem irrelevant when there’s a great big army bent on destruction marching towards us.”

He heard Teach sigh.

“You’re right about that.”

Silence fell between them. Eventually Claude turned and leaned against the wall so he could see Teach, who had taken a seat on the bench against the eastern wall.

“Did you see it coming?” he asked.

Teach looked up at Claude. Those startling green eyes were growing less startling with each day, even though every bone in Claude’s body rebelled at the idea that his professor, that Teach, had received a revelation from the goddess. Despite the evidence, the idea refused to settle in Claude’s mind. Because how was it possible that the goddess was choosing to start bothering Fódlan again now? Just when Claude had arrived with the hope of breaking down all the divisions she had created?

“No,” Teach admitted. “No, I did not see it coming. No one did. Except perhaps…”

Teach paused, his hands gripping the edge of the bench.

“I think Dimitri figured it out,” Teach continued. “He wanted to speak with me before the ceremony. With everything that was happening, I told him that it would have to wait. But now…”

Teach trailed off. He didn’t have to say anything else. Claude had witnessed for himself the changes in the crown prince. Dimitri refused to speak to anyone, training furiously from dawn till dusk. Dedue had taken to standing guard nearby and warning people away. When Claude ignored that warning, he had nearly lost his spleen to Dimitri’s lance.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” Claude said. “What matters now is doing everything we can to protect Garreg Mach. We can’t let Edelgard destroy this place.”

“I wish we could evacuate more of the students,” Teach said. “But the roads are dangerous. People are frightened and behaving erratically.”

“That’s what news of a great big army on the move will do.”

Claude paused. It was strange how the threat to Garreg Mach had made everything appear so final. Tomorrow felt so far away. The future was a shadowy figure that dissolved to smoke whenever Claude reached for it. He hated to make it all seem more dramatic, but he realized that there were things he needed to say.

“Teach.”

Teach turned his head. Claude had noticed the last few days how he had retreated more into the person Claude had met at Remire Village. Was it a reaction to the idea of fighting Edelgard, or his continued grief at his father’s death?

“I wanted to thank you,” Claude said. “Although I have no plans of dying here, and I hope you don’t either, I wanted to make sure you knew how much it means to me that you were there through all the twists and turns the year brought. I consider you more than just a professor…you’re my friend and ally. I wanted you to know that before, well, you know.”

Teach smiled. It still shocked Claude when that happened.

“I’ve never really had a friend before,” Teach said.

And Claude understood.

Teach held out his hand. Claude clasped it.

“I’m honored to be your friend,” Teach said. “After today, let’s leave behind the titles of teacher and student.”

“And you’ll finally begin to tell me what you know about the others?” Claude said hopefully. “I’ll never hear you say ‘I shouldn’t be discussing this with a student’ again, right?

Teach actually laughed.

#### X: The End

The retreat was a messy, panicked affair. Claude was dragged away from the advancing Imperial soldiers by a tearful Catherine as Gilbert went after Dimitri.

“Let me go!” Claude protested, fighting against Catherine’s grip. “Teach is…”

“Shut it,” Catherine snapped.

“I saw him fall!”

“He’ll be dead by now. That ravine is deep. And do you think we can let the bastards get hold of the heirs to the Kingdom and the Alliance?”

Catherine’s words stung Claude. Teach couldn’t be dead. He could not be dead. Claude’s only true friend in the world was not dead.

“Rhea…”

“Don’t talk about her!”

Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, then quickly opened them again and shoved Claude towards the rear of the monastery.

“Get moving,” she said. “I’ve got other students to round up. There’s an escape route at the back wall. Shamir is there.”

“Claude!”

Claude turned to see Hilda running towards him. Her uniform was torn and her axe was bloody. One piggy tail was falling from its band.

“Claude, you need to get out of here,” she said. “Judith’s come. She has orders to take you back to Derdriu.”

Claude reached out to take Hilda’s hand. He saluted Catherine, and she nodded before running back towards the front line.

Claude and Hilda ran together through the chaos that was Garreg Mach, passing monks treating injured soldiers, screaming students, and some of the teachers and knights. At one point Claude spied the gatekeeper helping three young children climb over a wall to make their escape into the woods.

At the rear of the monastery, Shamir was standing by a shadowed section of the wall. Claude could see that the wall had been attacked and knocked over to create a pathway. Judith was also there, with her arms crossed and a look of severe resolve.

“Boy,” she said as Claude drew near.

Claude stopped in front of the Hero of Daphnel. Hilda did too. When Claude looked at her, for all purposes his second-in-command in leading the Golden Deer, Hilda squeezed Claude’s hand before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Hilda?” Claude asked as the pink haired girl disappeared into the woods.

“Goneril sent his own men to collect her,” Judith said. “But she insisted on finding you before she left. Come on, boy, we need to get moving. Your grandfather sent me the moment he heard the Imperial army was marching. Are you armed?”

Claude gestured to the spare axe he carried from his belt. His arrows were long gone, and he had thrown his bow aside while desperately trying to get to Teach. But that had all been pointless.

“Good,” Judith said. “Let’s go.”

Shamir offered a small jerk of her head in farewell as Judith put a hand on Claude’s shoulder and guided him out the damaged wall. They were soon in the woods surrounding Garreg Mach. The thundering sounds of the advancing army grew fainter.

As they turned north, Claude slowed as he recognized the trees around them.

“Boy, what are you doing?!”

Judith stopped at the other side of the nap place. Claude had stopped in front of the tree. He laid his hand on the trunk.

“Just a minute,” he called.

“We don’t have a min…”

“Claude?”

Claude spun. Petra was standing amongst the trees, watching him. For a moment he thought she was a figure of delirium, but then Claude realized that when he thought of her she never had smudges of blood on her sleeves or dirt on her face.

Claude marched over to Petra and threw his arms around her shoulders.

“Petra, are you all right?” he murmured.

She was soft and warm, and although she smelt of the battlefield, it didn’t matter. He was the happiest he had felt since he couldn’t remember when. She was alive, and that was enough.

“I am not hurt,” Petra said. “I was told that we must be leaving the monastery immediately.”

Her arms had not moved. Claude wished she would embrace him back. But at least she didn’t push him away. After a moment, he released her, hoping she would interpret the unusual display of emotion as a reaction to the fury of the battle.

Judith came up beside them.

“You must be the princess from Brigid,” Judith said. “Claude mentions you in his letters home.”

Petra nodded as she looked Judith from head to toe. It almost made Claude laugh to see her assessing the Hero of Daphnel. But the hole that Catherine’s statement about Teach had left in his chest made smiling difficult.

“Do you have an escort?” Judith asked.

Petra shook her head.

“My grandfather is probably not yet knowing that there is trouble here,” Petra said. “But it is no problem. I will go home alone.”

“It’s dangerous,” Judith objected. “You should come with us to Derdriu. We can take care of you.”

“That is being the long way home,” Petra said, shaking her head again. “I am not thinking that Edelgard will be hurting me.”

“You shouldn’t put too much trust in her,” Judith said. “She’s already shown her true intentions.”

“If she is hurting me, she could make my grandfather angry,” Petra said. “I do not think Edelgard is wanting war with Brigid when she wants war with the church.”

Judith sighed.

“Well, I can’t force you to come with us,” she said, spreading her hands in defeat. “Try to stay safe. I have to get Claude home. Come on, boy.”

“Wait,” Claude said. “I just need…”

Judith raised an eyebrow as she looked at Claude. He saw the moment the suspicion he knew she carried was confirmed in her mind. She snorted and walked away, giving him some privacy.

“Petra,” Claude said, turning back to her and pretending Judith was nowhere near them, “promise me that you’ll get home safely?”

Petra lifted the corner of her mouth.

“I cannot be making promises like that, Claude,” she said. “But I will be doing my best. I will not like to die on foreign soil.”

“It was a pleasure having you as one of the Golden Deer,” Claude said. “I hope I can see you again.”

Petra reached out and tugged on Claude’s braid. His stomach twisted as the same time as the rest of his body froze at such a bold and un-Petra-like action.

“We will be meeting again,” Petra said. “In five years.”

The seed of happiness that had bloomed with her first statement died with the second one.

“Oh, right,’ he said.

Claude had forgotten the promise they had made on the night of the ball. That night seemed like it was from another life.

“Five years is a long time,” he commented grimly.

“Friendship does not change because of distance or time. And you have been a good friend to me. I will be remembering you.”

Claude nodded. His mouth was dry, probably from the exertion of battle, but he felt it was because of the words he wanted to say that he knew were pointless now. Five years was a very long time.

“Take care, Petra,” he said instead.

“You too, Claude. Go safely.”

Claude nodded.

Petra stood there for a moment, a series of thoughts dancing through her eyes. Then she suddenly hugged him. The gesture was as swift as a shooting star, and then she was gone, disappearing into the trees with a wave.

Judith came up beside Claude. He did not look at her. His heart was thumping a million beats per a minute. He knew his face as red as a tomato.

“We can’t wait around for the army to reach us, Claude,” Judith said.

“I know,” Claude said.

He didn’t move.

“She’s gone.”

“Right.”

Claude tugged at his tunic and checked that his axe was secure in its holster. He turned towards Derdriu.

“Let’s go,” he said.

This time Judith was the one who hesitated.

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

“Judith, I’m Claude von Riegan,” he said. “When I have ever not been okay?”

Judith shrugged and led the way into the trees.

Claude glanced back at the old tree that twisted around itself, reaching up into the sky further than he could climb. War was upon them. It was time to let the things of his youth go.

“Judith, wait up!” Claude called as he chased after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments most welcome! I may write a follow up to this one set post-timeskip, as I have a few ideas about what could happen when they are all reunited. Also, obviously, there are Claude and Petra's other three support conversations.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude is now Sovereign Duke of the Alliance and struggling to hold everything together. He returns to Garreg Mach on the eve of the millennium in the hope that the two people he cannot summon To Derdriu are there. In the events that follow, he recovers friendships, struggles with the responsibilities of his position, and wars with his emotions, particularly those incited by one certain princess.

**I:** ** Miracles Happen**

Claude leaned a hand against the windowsill, watching the sun as it rose and cast a joyful light across the monastery. Once vibrant and alive, now an abandoned, useless pile of stones. So much for the goddess and her protection. Where had she been when Edelgard’s army crawled over the top of Garreg Mach?

From this room, Claude could see the only addition that had been made to the grounds since then: a mass burial ground to the west. He had heard stories about the people of Garreg Mach Town collecting the bodies of monks, healers, children, soldiers, and putting them together in one giant grave. Members of the Church of Seiros and soldiers of the Imperial army all buried together for eternity. What a blight on Edelgard’s grand scheme.

“Why did you come here, Claude?” Claude asked himself, resting his forehead against his arm. “What did you hope to find?”

It was a stunt worthy of the person Claude had been five years ago, before all the governing and arguing and peacekeeping. Sneaking away in yesterday’s late hours. Harnessing Sylvie and taking to the sky. Flying through the night…all to see an empty building.

Claude didn’t have to come all the way here to see Hilda or Lorenz of any of the others. They were at his beck and call. He was Sovereign Duke, after all. Even Leonie or Raphael would travel to Derdriu if he asked them to. No, he had to admit that there were only two people outside the reach of his power. And they were the reason he had come. On the miniscule chance that they remembered the date. That they were alive.

A sound reverberated up the stairs. Footsteps.

Cursing silently, Claude glanced about the room for a way out. He had three daggers hidden on his body and Failnaught strapped to his back, but he would prefer not to get into a fight. He was supposed to be back in Derdriu before anyone noticed that, this time, he was really missing. And told Lorenz. Or Hilda, for that matter.

A ladder against the far wall provided an escape route into the rafters of the reception hall. Claude could slip through the roof and exit through the broken windows he had seen near the knight’s hall. From there it was a short run to the stables where Sylvie was waiting. They would be back in the air in no time.

But something held him back. A morbid curiosity as to whether the impossible could happen. What if it was Teach? What is it was Petra?

It was suddenly too late to escape. Claude turned towards the door as the footsteps entered the room, hand poised to release the knife hidden in his sleeve if needed.

It wasn’t.

Claude’s mouth fell open. He blinked, just to make sure the green hair he saw wasn’t an illusion.

“Teach?” he stuttered.

Teach looked just as surprised to see him. They stared at each other, unmoving. Then, needing to know if he was real or a ghost, Claude stepped towards Teach and reached out a hand. It landed on solid flesh and bone. Warm and living.

Claude laughed. Teach did too, and, accepting that miracles did happen, Claude pulled his friend into an embrace.

“You’re a bit late,” Claude said, still laughing. “Gods, all these years…I’d only just accepted you were gone for good. I’ve never been so glad to have you prove me wrong, Teach.”

Claude released him. As usual, Teach was less demonstrative of his feelings. They emerged in a tiny smile and a twitch of his hand.

“We agreed to leave titles behind us,” he said.

“So we did,” Claude said. “But calling you Byleth, well, it seems less friendly at this point. Might take some getting used to.”

Teach glanced around the room as though seeing it for the first time. Then he looked Claude from head to toe. The smile turned into a frown as his eyes rested on Failnaught, peeking over Claude’s shoulder.

“A villager told me that five years have passed,” Teach said slowly.

“Since the battle here?” Claude replied. “Well, yes, it’s been that.”

The confusion and discomfort that blossomed on Teach’s face gave Claude pause. For someone not prone to displaying emotion, his distress was as clear as the ocean on a sunny day.

“Teach?” Claude asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I remember falling,” Teach said. “That’s the last thing. But now, everyone’s gone. The monastery is in ruins. Claude, what happened?”

Concern soured Claude’s stomach. This was not normal. But then, at what point had anything about Teach been normal?

“Where exactly have you been the past five years?” Claude asked.

Teach looked away as though embarrassed. He ran his eyes over the wrecked furniture again.

“I…” He shrugged helplessly. “I’ve been asleep.”

“Come on, Teach, no one…”

Claude tilted his head to the side, studying his friend. Teach’s expression was open and vulnerable, his shoulders squared.

“Gods, but that’s not your lying face,” Claude breathed.

Teach crossed to the window and looked out at the sunrise. He wrapped his fingers over the window ledge, his knuckles turning white.

“Claude, I… What happened?”

**II: Returning to the Monastery**

The arrival of the rest of the Golden Deer while he and Teach dealt with the bandits was another surprise to Claude. Even Lorenz showed up. Once the skirmish was won, the reunion of his former classmates with their teacher was joyful. Everyone, particularly Hilda, was glad to see Teach alive and, apart from his missing memories, unharmed.

Claude told himself, as they walked back to Garreg Mach, that Petra’s absence didn’t matter. She had probably made it back to Brigid. And who would leave the safety of the islands when Edelgard was flattening every city and village in Fódlan?

Over the next few weeks, word of Byleth’s return spread. Hilda expressed astonishment at how quickly it travelled, but Claude knew that with a few carefully placed rumors and a couple of troubadours, no secret stayed that way for long.

Seteth and Flayn returned first. Then the Knights of Seiros stumbled home. Alois and Catherine were amongst the earliest to arrive. They were eager to widen the search for Rhea, but news of the emperor’s orders to her army changed that.

Waiting for the Imperial army to arrive at Garreg Mach stirred a lot of unpleasant memories. At least everyone was less panicked this time around. Perhaps buoyed by Teach’s miraculous return, thought Claude as he pondered the rough map Leonie had drawn of the village and Garreg Mach’s entrance. There were a lot of whispers about how he was truly blessed by the goddess. Claude wasn’t opposed to such talk – anything that kept hope alive was fine in his books – but he struggled to believe it himself.

“Claude.”

Claude looked up to see Teach standing in the doorway to the cardinal’s room. Claude hadn’t heard him approach, too focused on his wandering thoughts. And putting the final touches on the plan. A risky plan, but hopefully one that would prevent them from being overrun before their fight had even begun.

Rather than answer Teach verbally, Claude stood up and carried the map over to him. Teach took it and studied Claude’s annotations closely.

“It could work,” he said eventually.

“As long as we can keep the scout covered to this grain silo,” Claude said, pointing it out. “Once he lights the fire, it’s won.”

Teach sighed. “Anyone who cannot bear arms will have to take shelter within the cathedral,” he said. “If we fail and Garreg Mach is taken, I doubt Edelgard will let any of them live.”

“If we don’t do this, we will definitely fail and they’ll be in danger anyway,” Claude said. “It’s a risk, yes. But at least this way, we have a chance of taking out a large number of Edelgard’s vanguard without heavy losses.”

Teach nodded. He rolled the map up and placed it gently on the table.

“I’m sorry, Claude,” he said without looking up.

Claude frowned. He couldn’t think what Teach was apologizing for.

“I’m sorry for not being around to help you,” Teach explained. “If I had been here, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”

Claude laughed.

“Teach, you can’t take the blame for the war,” Claude said. “I believe that charge rests solely on Edelgard’s head.”

Teach didn’t look convinced, but he dropped the topic anyway. With a frown, he spread the map again and traced his finger along the road Claude had elected for the scout.

“We should send soldiers on foot. Horses will draw too much attention.” He tapped the mark indicating the silo. “Let’s send Lysithea and Raphael.”

Claude nodded in agreement.

**III: Failed Plans**

Marianne rushed towards them as Claude helped Raphael lay Lysithea down. Hilda gently lifted the unconscious mage’s hands onto the bench and caressed her cheek gently.

“The scout is dead,” Raphael said unceremoniously as he stepped out of Marianne’s way.

“How?” Teach demanded, the pressure he felt revealed in his unusually harsh tone.

“A lot of heavily armored units,” Raphael grunted as he watched Marianne work. “Once Lysithea went down, they quickly got the better of us.”

“You got Lysithea back alive,” Claude said, reaching up to pat Raphael’s back. “That’s what matters.”

Claude looked out across the Imperial forces gathered at the bottom of the hill. They were doomed. Everything had been riding on that scout. He needed to be replaced. The silo needed to be set alight. But if they spared anyone from their stretched battalions, it could mean to giving up the monastery.

Teach stepped up beside Claude, his hand toying with the hilt of the Sword of the Creator. Seeing the Sword reminded Claude of the people trapped inside the cathedral, relying on them to be their salvation.

Mind made up, Claude lifted Failnaught from where it was secured to his back.

“I’ll go,” he announced.

“You’re a commander,” Teach protested immediately as Hilda looked up in alarm.

“We can’t spare anyone from the line,” Claude said. “And you are perfectly capable of commanding the army.”

“You can’t go alone,” Hilda said, jumping to her feet.

Claude shook his head grimly.

“I’m more likely to slip past them alone, Hilda,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a Relic. Not many soldiers can stand up to one of Failnaught’s arrows.”

“The Alliance can’t function without you,” Hilda argued.

Claude laughed. “I’m sure Lorenz will do a fantastic job,” he said before leaping over the battlement. There wasn’t time to wait around for more objections.

Claude put an arrow to Failnaught’s string and hurried along the base of the wall. There weren’t any enemies this close to the monastery, yet, and so he had an easy run towards the scout’s path. When he reached the bridge, Claude bolted across it and ducked behind a building so he could survey the road.

There were two mounted knights waiting for him. Claude drew his bow and aimed for the first one. An arrow from Failnaught would pierce his helmet before he even knew he was under attack.

When it did, the other knight’s horse startled and screamed. The knight expertly reined the stallion in as his companion fell from the saddle, already dead. The knight studied the arrow, determined its path of flight, and looked in Claude’s direction. He spurred his horse forward.

Claude wished he had taken the time to learn to climb as he leapt up onto a barrel and reached for the building’s gutter. His foot slipped, but he managed to regain his balance and scramble onto the roof just as the knight saw him. Claude drew Failnaught. The knight spluttered as the arrow pierced his neck. Blood sprayed across his armor and horse.

There was no time to make sure the knight was dead. It was clear enough that if he was not, he would be soon. Claude stowed Failnaught, crawled across the roof and jumped down on the other side of the building.

Before he knew why, Claude drew one of his knives and pointed it at the door he had landed near. His body had reacted to a noise before his mind processed he had heard it. He waited in silence in case it turned out to be nothing.

“Claude!”

That voice was so unexpected Claude was certain it was a trick.

“Show yourself,” he demanded.

The door inched open and Claude caught a glimpse of vivid purple. His heart caught in his throat.

“It is me, Claude,” Petra said as she carefully stepped into the open air.

Claude didn’t lower his knife. It looked like her. A little older, longer hair, in clothing that was definitely not from Fódlan and showed more skin than he was accustomed to seeing on a woman. But…

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?” Claude asked.

Petra frowned, tilting her head to the left. The action would have been endearing if there hadn’t been a sword in her hand.

“Why would I be tricking you, Claude?” she asked. “I came like we promised.”

“It’s just too convenient,” Claude said. “What if…”

“Are you suspecting me?”

“Gods help me, I am,” Claude said. He was overjoyed to see Petra in one piece, but his mind could not accept her arriving at this moment.

“Let me prove to you I am the same,” Petra said.

Her unflinching acceptance of Claude’s doubt only increased his guilt. It made him wonder what circumstances she had grown up in, that she would think it acceptable for a friend to demand proof of her loyalty.

“Why are you advancing here alone, Claude?”

And now she asked him to reveal the plan. Claude remained in position, ready to attack, while his mind and heart fought to convince each other. But as he remembered the people trapped in the cathedral, he realized that going with Petra was better than going alone. In case he didn’t make it.

After all, she could have killed him on sight, Claude reasoned. She hadn’t.

“I need to get to the grain silo,” Claude said. “I need to set it on fire.”

Petra nodded grimly. “I will be helping.”

“OK.” Claude sheathed his knife. “Teach and others are depending on this, so we can’t let them down.”

As they advanced down the road, it quickly became apparent that it was better to avoid the soldiers posted at strategic points then face them. They were far more heavily armored than either Claude or Petra, and although he could take them all down with Failnaught, Claude knew that ran the risk of drawing too much attention. So they snuck through the buildings that lined the road.

Thankfully, the soldiers did not seem to be communicating with each other, as no alarm had been raised at the death of the two knights. It was a strange mistake. Perhaps they thought this siege was going to be an easy victory. Another meaningless rebellion against the emperor’s might that would fade into nothingness.

Not today, Claude thought as they finally reached the silo. There were no soldiers stationed around it. A massive oversight.

“How will you be setting the fire?” Petra asked.

Claude replaced Failnaught on his back and drew a box of matches from his pocket.

“When you don’t have magic, you have to resort to traditional methods,” he said.

Petra snorted. “Will that be enough?”

“With what is in there, yes,” Claude said. “When the grain heats, the silo will explode. Lysithea set flammable traps from here right across the battlefield. Once they catch fire, the Imperial army will be dancing on their toes.”

Petra nodded. She sheathed her sword and took up her bow.

“Let me,” she said.

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It’s a long shot.”

Petra selected an arrow and quickly prepared it with a tar rag.

“I have been practicing long shooting with great diligence,” she said, look up to meet Claude’s gaze.

To Claude’s immense frustration, his stomach flipped at the passion in her eyes. It had been five years, but he was still immensely attracted to the princess from Brigid.

“Very well,” he said, putting that problem aside for later and lighting a match.

Claude held the flame to the tar rag. When it caught alight, he drew the match away and shook it to extinguish it. Petra aimed at the base of the silo.

“For justice,” Petra whispered.

She released the arrow. Claude was going to ask what she had meant by the statement, but he was distracted by the flame as it flew cleanly through the air and struck true. Claude raised his eyebrows at her.

“You have been practicing,” he remarked.

Petra nodded grimly, her lips pursed. Claude’s eyes were only drawn from her as the glow of flames in the corner of his eye intensified. He grabbed Petra’s wrist.

“And now we have to get the hell out of here,” he said.

**IV: Blood**

Judith scruffed Claude’s hair. She actually put her hand on his head and rubbed it. Petra, standing beside him, grinned and Teach let out a short chuckle.

“Judith!” Claude protested loudly, jumping away from her. “Some dignity, please!”

“Come on, boy,” Judith said. “You may be the Sovereign Duke, but you’ve yet to best me with a sword.”

Claude’s cheeks were burning as Judith left him to clasp Teach’s hand. Teach smiled at her.

“Good to see you too, Professor,” Judith said. “Last I heard, you were dead.”

Teach sidestepped the question in her words with a simple, “It’s a long story.”

“I bet it is. Thanks for keeping the boy alive till I could get here,” Judith said, briefly glancing at Claude. But she quickly turned her head back to stare at Petra.

“Princess,” Judith said, surprise staining the word. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re here too?”

Petra nodded. “I made a promise to the professor and to Claude,” she said. “So I have returned. I was a little late, but I was certain to come.”

Judith raised a slim eyebrow at Claude.

“Is that so?” she said.

Claude turned away to check on their ragtag army. He could see that they were exhausted not only by the unexpected fight, but also the heat of the valley. Many were tugging at the cuffs and collars of the clothing they wore under their armor. Claude understood their discomfort; he was not feeling the best himself. The sooner they got out of this valley and back to Garreg Mach, the better.

“Let’s move out, Teach,” he said. “Before there are any more surprises.”

Teach nodded in agreement. While he gave the orders, Claude unharnessed Sylvie and sent her to the sky. She knew the way home. He and Judith had some catching up to do and that was better done on horseback.

When they were finally free of Ailell, Claude drew his horse up beside Judith’s. The Hero of Daphnel nodded at him before glancing over her shoulder down the line of the army.

“So, the princess from Brigid came back,” Judith said.

Claude shook his head. That was not the catching up he had planned to do.

“Don’t start, Judith,” he said.

“What?” Judith laughed. “I’m surprised is all. I wonder if she ever made it back to her country?”

“She’s been hiding in the Empire for the past five years. It was impossible to get a ship back to Brigid. She doesn’t even know what is happening in her homeland.”

“Understandable. She must be keen to get home.”

“I imagine so.”

“But she looks well.”

Oh, Claude had noticed that, if not exactly the way Judith meant. Now that they were no longer students and under the burden of uniforms, Petra had taken to wearing her traditional outfits from Brigid around the monastery. It had been impossible to not notice how little they left to the imagination, especially compared to what the girls from Fódlan wore. Not that they were indecent or anything. They were just…revealing.

Judith studied Claude’s face for a moment. He tried to keep a straight face, but she grinned and said, “She’s a beautiful woman.”

“Gods, Judith,” Claude swore.

“Come on, Claude, I know what you think of her. You made that very clear five years ago.”

“Exactly,” Claude said firmly. “Five years ago. All of that is in the past. There’s a war going on. I’ve got other things to think about.”

Judith’s eyes twinkled.

“Don’t think me ignorant of the ways of young men,” she said. “I had my fair share of experiences with them back in the day.”

“None of which I need to hear,” Claude said, turning away to hide the fact that his cheeks had reddened again. Perhaps he sometimes had thoughts or dreams about Petra that were little less than innocent, but that was certainly his business alone and none of Judith’s.

“Look, Claude, in seriousness, I promised your mother I’d keep an eye on you and make sure you stay out of mischief,” Judith said. “You read the letter she sent me. I would be remiss in my duty if I let you run after the princess without warning you of the very real consequences.”

“You don’t…”

“Think about your position,” Judith interrupted. Claude sighed, but let her continue. “You are heir to the throne of Almyra. You are also the Sovereign Duke of the Alliance, waging war against the emperor. When the war is won, who do you think will be ruler of Fódlan? Add to that a queen who is the heir of her own nation and you are looking at a true empire, completely unlike the one Adrestia claims to be.”

They were all things Claude had already thought about. But he didn’t want to reveal that he had thought about it, because that would be revealing too much. So he was quiet as Judith clicked her tongue thoughtfully.

“And if you are not planning to marry her, that carries another set of complications,” Judith said. “She’s a princess, Claude. She’s not the type of woman you can be casual about.”

Claude shook his head as he tugged on his horse’s reins, guiding it to the right at a fork in the road.

“Petra is hardly in line to be my queen or lover,” he said. “But you’re right about something.”

“What?”

Claude glanced towards Byleth. He and Hilda were riding next to each other, chatting. Well, Hilda was chatting and Byleth was listening.

“I’ve been thinking,” Claude said. “I can’t stay in Fódlan forever. Besides the fact that I promised my parents I’d return someday, there are things I want to do. Things I need to do. I’m not sure that I was supposed to be the heir to multiple nations, Judith.”

Judith frowned. She stared down the road ahead of them in silence for a long moment.

“Perhaps you should think of it this way,” she said eventually. “If you weren’t heir to multiple nations, would you feel as you do? Would you want to change the world so desperately?”

Claude laughed. “Come on, I only found out I was a member of the Riegan family a few years ago. I’m intelligent, but not clairvoyant.”

“But you always knew your mother was from Fódlan. Even if she hadn’t been from a ruling family, you were still heir to different bloodlines, different cultures. You were always going to be someone who had to find his place as a member of and an outsider to both. That is the way this world works, for better or worse.”

Claude lifted a hand to the nape of his neck, rubbing a sore spot.

“With that in mind, say we win this war,” he said. “Do you really think the people here are ready to accept a ruler who isn’t pure Fódlan?”

Judith shrugged.

“That’s not for me to say, boy,” she said. “The proof will be in the day you snatch victory from Edelgard’s jaws. When that happens, things should make more sense.”

**V: Climbing Trees**

Claude didn’t mind his work. But there were times when he needed a break from the constant decision making. Today was that day. So he asked Byleth to take over for the afternoon and escaped to the nap place.

Since returning to Garreg Mach, Claude had not been back to the small clearing by the tree. He walked through the woods quickly, eager to recover the peace he had found there during his academy days. Although, in case it turned out to be less than peaceful, he had brought knives and a bow. The assassination attempts had thinned a little since the Great Bridge of Myrddin had been won, but it was always possible that someone was just waiting for the right moment.

The nap place was a little more overgrown, a little shadier then the last time Claude had seen it. He walked up to the tree and pressed a palm against its trunk. Somehow it had grown even taller. As he tipped his head back to try and see the top, he had a thought.

“Petra?” Claude called, feeling foolish but a little hopeful.

There was no answer. Sighing, Claude pulled the bow off his back and dropped down at the tree’s base. He leaned against the trunk, folded his hands across his stomach and closed his eyes.

A moment later he opened them again. What was he doing? Sleeping in the middle of the woods, on the ground, when there was a war going on? It was basically asking to never wake up.

Throwing his head back, Claude narrowed his eyes so he could see the branches of the tree against the bright sunlight.

“It is safe to take sleep in the tree’s top,” he muttered to himself.

Rest was forgotten as his mind began to work. Claude measured the height of the branches from his position, trying to figure out how to get up there. He already knew the first branch was too high for him to reach. If only he had something to throw over one of the branches and…

Decided, Claude jumped to his feet and went to find some rope.

An hour later, Claude lowered his bow and admired his handiwork. And immediately stopped admiring it. Half a dozen ropes dangled from the branches of the tree. He thought he would be able to get up, but so would anyone else. That defeated the purpose. But for now it was the best he had.

Claude tugged on one of the ropes. It held. He grabbed it with both hands, took a breath and lifted his weight off the ground. He didn’t fall. He dropped his feet back down, picked up his bow and strapped it to his hip. Then he began to climb.

A short time later Claude grabbed hold of a large branch and hauled himself up over it. He straddled it, finding his balance before looking towards the ground. The height didn’t bother him like it had the first time he had attempted tree climbing. Learning to ride Sylvie had solved that problem.

Feeling a little more confident, Claude lifted his hands off the branch and began to pull up the rope. When he was finished, he looked out across the treetops in the rich afternoon light and let out a small whoop of triumph.

However, Claude didn’t think he could fall asleep in the tree any more than he could on Sylvie’s back. So he leaned back against the trunk to enjoy the view.

It was twilight when he heard someone approaching. Peering down through the leaves, Claude saw a very familiar mane of purple hair. He couldn’t control the warmth that spread through him, right to his fingertips.

Part of Claude wanted to be calm and adult considering Judith’s incessant teasing. That part lost as boyish glee bubbled in his chest. He wanted to show off. And this was perfect. He maneuvered up to his feet, balancing on the branch.

“Hey, Petra!” he called.

Petra tensed. A knife flashed in her hand as she crouched in a defensive posture. She looked around.

“Claude?” she replied cautiously. “Where are you?”

Claude chuckled. “Wait, I’ll meet you down there!”

If you stop for thinking, your arms will get heavy, Claude told himself. Then he jumped.

Petra scampered backwards, knife raised, as he hit the ground a few feet from her. Claude had somehow nailed the landing, and as he straightened and grinned at Petra he hoped he appeared impressive. But she regarded him with surprise before laughing. Claude’s heart sank.

“Claude!” Petra exclaimed as she sheathed her knife. “I thought you were not able to climb the trees?”

She was laughing with delight! His wounded ego soothed, Claude stretched his arms out in front of himself.

“That is why I devised a new climbing technique,” he said.

Petra stepped towards him eagerly. “I have much admiration for that! To climb is a skill with value.”

Although her words were exactly what Claude had wanted to hear, he immediately felt guilty. He dropped his arms by his side.

“I may have cheated a little,” he admitted.

Petra tilted her head to the side. She glanced up the tree.

“By using my bow to shoot a rope over a branch. Or a few branches. Or all of the branches,” Claude said rapidly. He lifted a finger to stall her reply. “But! But, once I got up there and hauled up all the ropes, it was the same as if I’d climbed it your way.”

Petra smiled, reaching up to push Claude’s finger down.

“That costs more time, so it is not the best thing for hunting,” she said. “But you are not harming the tree, so that is…an advantage. I am liking this technique.”

Claude cursed himself by six different gods as his heart thumped at hearing the word like. Not about you, he scolded himself.

“You’re right,” he said slowly. “I didn’t harm the tree at all. I’m surprised that impressed you.”

Petra crossed to the tree and lay both hands against it. Her hair seemed to glow in the fading light. Claude almost missed what she said, so busy was he admiring it.

“The tree has a spirit. If you hurt the tree, you give its spirit anger.”

Claude stepped up beside Petra and leaned a shoulder against the tree, facing her.

“I see,” he said. “I take it the people of Brigid have a close relationship with nature, then?”

Petra nodded. “Trees give us food and shelter. We are needing them, and they are needing us.”

Claude folded his arms across his chest. He felt comfortable, he realized. As though with Petra he could truly be himself. His Almyran self. He didn’t feel the need to hide all those aspects of himself that the people of Fódlan found distasteful or unpleasant.

There were so few people he felt that way around.

Pushing away the fear of rejection, Claude began to speak.

“You know, the people of Fódlan believe that everything is a blessing from the goddess. They’ve forgotten to be grateful to nature too. Nature gives us life. Sustains us. Without it, we couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t live. It’s everything.”

Petra lifted one hand from the tree and turned to face Claude. He stared into her eyes and had to remind himself to exhale.

“It’s fine to pray to the goddess, but we have to respect nature too,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

Petra smiled. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do not know this goddess, but I know nature. That is the knowing I prefer to have.”

Claude reached out and squeezed Petra’s shoulder. But she startled at his touch. He quickly pulled his hand away.

“You and me both,” he said to cover the awkwardness of his mistake.

“We should be going back,” Petra said. “It is becoming dark.”

“You’re right.”

Claude lifted himself off the tree. Then he remembered and cursed aloud. Petra jumped.

“Claude, what is wrong?” she asked urgently.

Claude rubbed the back of his neck.

“Um, Petra,” he mumbled, “I left the rope in the tree.”

**VI: The Battle of Gronder**

It was Dimitri.

Upon recognizing him, Claude reacted quickly. He twisted Failnaught towards the trees at the very moment he released the string. The arrow, blazing with power, embedded itself in one of the trunks. The sound of the wood cracking echoed across the field, audible despite the roar of battle.

Stones scraped across the ground as Byleth skidded to a stop beside Claude.

“Claude, what…?”

Byleth trailed off as he saw Dimitri too.

The prince was changed. That was all Claude could think as he stared at the crown prince. (King? Claude wasn’t certain.) Sure, there was the ominous eye patch and the dirty hair. The battered armor. The glowing Hero’s Relic. But what caught Claude’s attention was the strange, monstrous expression Dimitri wore. The way he cast his remaining eye over Claude and Byleth without the burden of memories or friendship as he stalked towards them.

“It’s you,” Dimitri growled. “I scarce believed it when they said you were alive.”

“Well, here we are,” Claude said, lowering Failnaught.

“Why are you here?”

Dimitri’s eye darted towards Byleth. Claude felt Byleth shift beside him, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the prince.

“For the same reason as you, I expect,” Claude answered.

“You know nothing of my reasons,” Dimitri spat. “No one ever has. Get out of my way.”

Claude drew an arrow from his quiver.

“Calm down, Dimitri,” he said as he nocked it.

“If you don’t move I will have no choice but to kill you,” Dimitri replied.

He swept the Hero’s Relic in front of him. Claude noted the control he demonstrated in that action, the mastery of the weapon. Dimitri was dangerous.

“What does it achieve, us killing each other?” Claude said. “I’m guessing you’re after Edelgard, not me or Teach.”

“Move, Claude,” Dimitri said. “I have no time to exchange words with you.”

Byleth stepped forward into Claude’s field of vision. The tip of the Sword of the Creator was pointing downwards, but Byleth’s grip revealed he was ready to defend himself.

“Dimitri,” Byleth said, reaching towards the prince with his free hand, “let us help you. We want the same things.”

Dimitri groaned.

“None of you know anything!” he cried. “What I must do. What haunts me.”

“Let’s join forces,” Byleth said. “Together we can defeat Edelgard. You are suffering too many losses this way.”

“None of that matters. All that matters it that woman dies.”

“At what cost, Dimitri?” Claude demanded.

“Enough! Get out of my way.”

Dimitri lifted his Relic and raced towards Byleth. Claude aimed Failnaught and let loose a warning shot. The arrow struck the ground at Dimitri’s feet, but he ignored it and thrust his Relic towards Byleth. Byleth swung the Sword upwards, parrying the attack and forcing Dimitri back.

“Dimitri, we don’t want to fight you!” Byleth begged.

Dimitri, breathing heavily, was still. He held his weapon in a defensive position, but seemed to be considering Byleth’s words.

“I know that if things were different, you would come to our aid,” Claude said, resisting reaching for another arrow. He worried such an action might anger Dimitri. “Please, let us come to yours. Let’s join forces.”

The battlefield exploded.

Claude flew through the air, propelled forward with the force of the magic detonating behind him. He dropped Failnaught and threw his arms out as the ground rushed towards him. His shoulders jarred, pain shooting through his body. He collapsed face first in the dirt.

As Claude shook his head, recovering his senses, eerie screams sounded across the field of Gronder. The cries of people in agony.

“Dear Goddess,” Byleth breathed nearby.

Claude didn’t turn his head to see. He didn’t want to. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing Failnaught, and sought out Dimitri.

The prince was already upright, leaning heavily on his weapon with the tip digging into the earth. His eyes were fixed on whatever horror was playing out behind Claude. He twisted as though in pain, agony across his face.

“Teach, did we send anyone up the hill?” Claude asked.

Dimitri’s reaction frightened him. If any of their army had been where the spell hit…but for some reason Claude couldn’t remember what orders they had given.

“No,” Byleth said. His voice was strained. “I ordered Raphael to pull back before…”

Byleth stopped as Dimitri moaned. “Felix…” he wailed, doubled over, only remaining standing because of the strangling grip on his Relic. Understanding what that desperate cry meant, Claude reached towards his friend.

“Dimitri…” he began.

But Dimitri yanked the Hero’s Relic out of the ground.

“Out of my way!” he shouted.

Dimitri came towards Claude at a sprint. Claude couldn’t lift Failnaught in time, nor draw at such a close range. He tried to move out of the reach of the Relic, but he wasn’t quick enough.

A sharp, screaming sting ripped through Claude’s thigh. Blood beaded in the air as the Relic broke free of his flesh. Claude’s leg crumbled beneath him. It was pain worse than any Claude had ever experienced, laced with magic and despair and grief. It tore into Claude’s soul, making everything around him seem insignificant. He dropped Failnaught again and reached for the wound, pressing down on it to try and stop the pain.

The scientific corner of Claude’s mind weakly exclaimed, so this, _this_ was what it felt like to be wounded by a Hero’s Relic.

A shadow fell across Claude. He looked up to see Dimitri holding the Relic above his chest, the sharp edge pointing towards his heart.

“Dimitri, no!” Byleth shouted.

Claude met Dimitri’s single eye. Suddenly he recognized the expression he had struggled to identify earlier. It was hopelessness and torment. His old friend was in the darkest place a person could be. How could Claude possibly help him?

Claude closed his eyes, waiting for the death blow.

It didn’t come.

After a moment, Claude cracked an eye to see Dimitri draw the Relic away. Sadness and grief shadowed the prince’s face.

“I don’t want to fight you either, Claude,” Dimitri said, his voice cracking.

Then he was gone.

A breath escaped Claude in a rush as relief flooded through his body. He was alive. He was bleeding and in agony, probably unable to walk, but he was alive.

Byleth crashed to his knees beside Claude and lifted his hands over the wound. The white glow of healing magic encircled Claude’s leg.

“Teach, there isn’t time for this,” Claude said, shoving him away. “You need to go give commands. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re the leader of the bloody Alliance, Claude. If someone comes across you like this there’s no telling what they’ll do,” Byleth snapped. “I’m not leaving you.”

Claude noticed the pallor of Byleth’s face and the sweat gluing his hair to his brow. Byleth had learned some healing spells, but he was not as good at them as Marianne or Manuela. This one was clearly taxing his strength.

“Byleth,” Claude said.

Byleth frowned, the magic extinguishing as he looked up. Claude gasped as the pain returned to full strength.

“Then help me hobble back behind the line,” he said.

Byleth stood, grabbing Claude’s arm to pull him up.

“Fine,” he said. “This is beyond my skill to heal anyway.”

Byleth slung Claude’s arm over his shoulders and clamped his around Claude’s waist. Claude tested his injured leg, hoping to make things easier. He lifted the weight off it with a hiss and fell against Byleth. Byleth grunted.

“I told you I don’t have the talent,” he complained.

Claude tugged on Byleth’s arm as he took a step.

“Failnaught,” he said, pointing at the bow.

Byleth shoved his foot under the bow’s grip and lifted Failnaught into the air. Claude reached out and grabbed the bow from where it hung over Byleth’s boot, thinking they would probably laugh about this later in their lives. Much, much later.

**VII: Nobility**

Claude hurled the sword away in frustration. It didn’t travel far, knocking against the hilts of the others standing upright in the bucket beside him. There was a clatter as the bucket overturned and spilled its contents across the ground. Throwing the oiled cloth on top of the swords, Claude covered his face with his hands and swore using all the foulest words he knew in every language he spoke.

“Claude? What are you doing?”

Petra stood at the entrance to the training grounds. Twisting away from her, Claude wiped furiously at his eyes. He cleared his throat as he heard footsteps indicating she was coming towards him.

“The training equipment needed maintenance, so I thought I’d give it a good cleaning,” Claude said.

His voice sounded hoarse and strained. Hoping Petra hadn’t noticed, Claude placed his hands on the step, tensing as he prepared to push himself up. It was still difficult to move without pain because of the wound inflicted by Dimitri’s Relic.

A hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him. Petra nodded towards his injured leg before ducking down and turning the bucket upright. Claude watched silently as she cleaned up the mess he had created.

When she had finished, Petra gracefully sat down beside Claude. She glanced around and saw the cleaning materials on Claude’s other side.

“Do you need help?” she asked, reaching across him to pick up a clean rag.

Claude shook his head. “If you intend to use something a lot, it’s on you to take care of it,” he said.

Petra twisted the rag around her wrist.

“You are a noble who does not have fear of working with hardness,” she commented lightly. “And you can climb trees. I am impressed.”

Claude took a deep breath. He clenched his fists, resting them on his knees, and looked across the training ground. It was easier to hold it together when someone was with him.

“Thanks, but to be honest, I don’t think being a noble has anything to do with anything,” he said. “Nobles and commoners are all equal here. Social rank doesn’t matter when you put your life in each other’s hands. When you…”

He stopped, retreating from what he had been about to say. Petra gently rested her hand over his fist.

“I have your same opinion,” she said. “Status is something chosen by chance, not by a person.”

Odd, Claude thought, looking at her hand. If she had done that before the battle at Gronder, his heart would have raced and his mind fogged. But today he just felt empty. So he pulled his hand out from under hers, swallowing the bitterness at the back of his throat.

“It’s not like the ancestors of the nobility or royalty were selected by the goddess herself, after all,” he said. He rubbed his thigh as the wound began to ache. “What does origin or status matter? In the grand scheme of things, we’re all just insignificant mortals.”

Origin had not stopped Dimitri from losing his mind. Status had not saved him when surrounded by Imperial soldiers. Just like nobility, in two different nations moreover, hadn’t made Claude capable of saving him.

A long silence followed his words, until finally Claude turned his head to look at Petra. She was chewing her lip, her eyebrows knit together.

“Claude, you are…very much strange for a noble,” she said.

“Same to you,” Claude shrugged. “You’re a princess of Brigid, right? If I’m a strange noble, you are too.”

Petra shook her head. “I am normal in Brigid,” she said frankly. “In Fódlan, you are…”

Petra turned her face to the roof, clearly searching for a translation.

“An abnormality.”

Claude blinked, and then, unexpectedly, laughter escaped him. Uncontrollable laughter. Because it was all so horrible, laughter was the only thing left. To laugh at life and himself, at his stupid crush on the princess of Brigid. At his bad luck that the day she touched him with affection, he felt nothing. At the cursed fate that had brought him to Fódlan, that had made him care about people who fought each other and hated each other. Who died after sparing his life and revealing they could be saved.

When the laughter finally dissolved, Claude felt both better and ill, relieved and disgusted at himself.

“I’m sorry,” Claude said to Petra. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“You are grieving,” Petra replied simply.

Hearing the truth was worse than being stabbed. Claude closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear. If he could, the tangle of emotions would too.

“Your heart is kind, Claude,” Petra said. “I am thinking you will be a good king.”

Claude knew that she meant to make him feel better, but her comment was far off target. He couldn’t think about being king right now. The burden of figuring out the future was too much on top of the burden of the recent battle and its cost.

So Claude took the rag from Petra and leaned over to grab one of the swords.

“This equipment isn’t going to clean itself,” he said.

Petra nodded. She jumped to her feet, ran across to the storage area and returned with a tub of axes and more oil. She grabbed the rag Claude had thrown to the ground.

“I will be helping you,” she announced. “We will join together our efforts.”

Claude took a breath, lowering the sword to his lap and watching as Petra furiously commenced work.

“You’re an abnormality, Princess,” he muttered to himself. “A wonderful abnormality.”

**VII: A Moment to Reflect**

Claude patted Sylvie’s nose as he offered her a dead rat. The wyvern lapped it from his hand eagerly, swallowing it whole. Claude caught Byleth’s disgusted grimace as he approached.

“She’s beautiful,” Claude said, turning Sylvie’s head so that he could press his cheek against hers while they both looked at Byleth.

“Absolutely charming,” Byleth replied sarcastically, stopping a good five feet away.

Claude laughed and rubbed Sylvie’s neck. She warbled and skipped away towards the river.

Claude clapped a hand on Byleth’s shoulder, casting his eyes over his friend’s black Adrestian armor and thinking how strange it looked. It matched the heavy wyvern lord costume Claude wore, that made him feel awkward and clumsy. But their plan required the troops at Merceus to be fooled beyond doubt, and so they marched in full Imperial regalia.

“How fare our Imperial reinforcements?” Claude asked.

“In good spirits considering where we are marching and the risk involved in this scheme,” Byleth answered.

Claude blew a lock of hair from his eye. “We need to take Merceus,” he said. “There’s no option here.”

“I agree,” Byleth yawned as he began to dig in his satchel. “By the way, Hilda wanted me to give you this.”

Byleth drew out a bracelet and dropped it in Claude’s hand. Claude lifted it up to examine it. The bracelet was obviously handmade, of small stone beads alternating in gold and brown.

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s a good luck charm,” Byleth said. “Hilda was up till all hours last night making one for each of the Golden Deer.”

Byleth held up his wrist to show off his own bracelet.

“Yours is fancier,” Claude said as he slipped his over his hand.

“Well,” Byleth replied by way of explanation.

Claude snorted. The worst kept secret in the army had been confirmed for all who doubted when Byleth pulled a sobbing Hilda into his arms after she delivered the news of Dimitri’s death. Since then, Hilda had shared Byleth’s room at the monastery and his tent on the road. Claude was happy for his friends. Maybe a little jealous, but happy for them.

They sat down in the shade of a tree a short distance from where the rest of the Golden Deer were setting up lunch. Hilda threw a brilliant smile at Byleth while Ignatz and Raphael, clearly under her influence, scrambled to unpack the midday rations.

“So when will you tell me who this mysterious ally is?” Byleth asked, returning Hilda’s smile shyly. “I know you like surprises, but I’m supposed to be helping you command this army.”

Claude watched as Petra knelt down beside Ignatz to help. An uncomfortable, tight sensation settled in his chest.

“Just trust me,” he said to Byleth.

“I trust you, but it’s tough to trust them when I don’t know who they are.”

“Hey, Byleth,” Claude said, tearing his eyes away from Petra and turning his back on the Golden Deer all together, “do you believe in gods?”

Byleth crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees. He began to fiddle with his bracelet.

“Gods?” he asked.

“Not the goddess. Just gods in general.”

Byleth shrugged.

Claude plucked a blade of grass from its roots.

“I never used to believe in that sort of thing,” he said. “I hated the idea of praying. After all, you can only really rely on yourself. But then miracles happen. I mean, things completely out of your control.”

“Like what?”

“Well, meeting you, for example,” Claude said as he twisted the blade of grass around his finger. “Listen, I have a lot of time to think while I’m up in the air.”

“You’re supposed to be scouting.”

“I do that too. But you know, you seem sort of…impossible. You can wield the Sword of the Creator, you’re a tactical genius, you have this strange ability to earn the trust of anyone you cross paths with.”

“Claude, you’re rambling.”

Claude laughed and threw the piece of grass away. In the past their natural tendencies – Claude’s to endlessly talk and Byleth’s to stay silent – had complimented each other perfectly. But these days Byleth was more outspoken. It was a bad thing for Claude’s ego, but a good thing for what he had been considering while riding Sylvie high above the cares of the world.

“The point is, I can’t believe for a second that our meeting was just a coincidence. That means it must have been fate. Maybe some god empathized with me and my dreams.”

“Aren’t you boys hungry?”

Claude looked over his shoulder to see Hilda approaching.

“Wow, you must really love Byleth if you’ve actually carried food over here,” Claude commented.

Hilda ducked down beside Byleth and slipped an arm around his neck. Claude quickly turned away. He saw Petra, who had been staring in their direction, do the same.

“Embarrassed, Claude?” Hilda teased.

Claude looked back to see Hilda passing Byleth some of the rations she had brought, while Byleth tried to wipe the lipstick smear from his mouth.

“We are having a serious conversation,” Claude said.

Hilda threw the remaining rations at him. She stood up, flicked her hair over her shoulder and wandered away.

“Honestly, By,” Claude said.

Byleth shrugged, his expression hopeless. Shaking his head, Claude unwrapped his rations.

“You were at some god,” Byleth prompted.

“Again, not the goddess of Fódlan,” Claude said. “People all over the world have different ideas about who or what the gods are, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Byleth said. He chewed on his biscuit thoughtfully for a moment. “You and Petra are the only people from outside Fódlan I’ve met.”

Claude dropped his rations. He looked up at Byleth and let out a nervous laugh.

“Me?” he said.

“Claude, I’m not a fool,” Byleth smirked. “None of us are. You were obviously not raised in Fódlan. No one even knew you existed until a few years ago. I’ve heard all the conspiracy theories a thousand times from Lorenz.”

Claude shook his head as he picked up his biscuit and brushed it off.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”

Byleth chuckled. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say,” he conceded. “As for me, I believe there is a god or goddess of some sort.”

He spoke with such certainty that Claude wondered if there was something Byleth was keeping from him. Something more profound than a simple revelation. But in the end, what did it matter? All Claude needed to know was that he and Byleth thought the same way on what was most important: the future of Fódlan. If their thoughts about that were the same, then they had a real chance at making a difference.

“Anyway,” Byleth said, “let’s not think about gods right now, OK? Let’s review the battle plan to make sure none of us have to meet one two days from now.”

**IX: Love**

Claude could not comprehend the destruction taking place in front of him. If there was a god, then surely this was what his wrath looked like. Javelins of light striking walls that were indestructible and causing them to crumble within moments. Claude could hear screams of terror from the poor people trapped within the fort.

Suddenly realizing that he was witnessing an event that would change the continent, Claude glanced around at his friends. Byleth was reaching blindly towards Hilda. Hilda, seeing his hand, took it between both of hers. Raphael and Ignatz were watching with their mouths hanging open. Leonie was not paying any attention to the fort, instead helping civilians escape down the road. Lorenz was trying to push in and take over from her. Petra…

Claude’s heart thudded. He turned, searching.

“Claude?” Byleth said.

“Where is Petra?” Claude asked. “I can’t see her.”

Byleth pulled his hand from Hilda’s grasp and started looking around. As though another pair of eyes would change the fact that Petra wasn’t there.

“Claude, don’t panic,” Hilda said. “She can’t be far.”

Claude looked back towards Merceus. Oh gods. If she…

Hilda caught Claude’s arm as he began to move towards the ruins of the fort.

“Claude, you can’t!” she cried. “It’s dangerous!”

“If Petra is…”

“Claude!”

He turned towards Marianne’s voice. The mage was hurrying towards them from the direction of the small camp the medics had set up after the army entered Merceus.

“Claude, we need to move the wounded,” Marianne said. “The chief surgeon said…”

Claude grabbed Marianne’s shoulders.

“Have you seen Petra?” he demanded.

Marianne blinked in confusion. “She’s with a healer,” she said.

Claude did not wait to hear anything else. He took off across the field at a run.

There were few people marching under the Crest of Flames who could match Petra with either a sword or a bow. She was supremely talented and able to protect herself better than he could. Knowing that was the only way Claude was able to overcome his personal reluctance to send her into battle.

But everyone had moments when their talent failed them. If today had been the day that Petra’s failed and he had not been there to save her…

Claude burst into the main tent of the medic camp. The healers within yelled and protested as Claude pushed between them, glancing over the wounded lying on pallets, blankets, and anything else that could serve as a bed.

“Duke?” the chief surgeon, identified by a yellow cap, asked as he blocked Claude’s way. “Can I help?”

“Petra,” Claude said, still frantically searching the beds with his eyes. “Where is she?”

“Petra?”

His tone made it clear the surgeon did not know her by name.

“The princess from Brigid,” Claude supplied, hoping it would prompt the man’s memory.

The surgeon’s face lit with recognition. “She’s with a healer in the other tent,” he said. “Incision to the stomach.”

Claude thought he would be sick. He spun and rushed back to the entrance, ducking into the smaller one to the right.

“Petra?” he called, throwing back the door. Inside he could only see the curtains hung up to create small booths, giving the healers and their patients a little privacy.

“Claude?”

Claude turned towards her voice. He found her lying on a blanket behind one of the curtains, holding a blanket in place to protect her modesty as a healer attended to a gash across her stomach and right hip. She looked battle worn, and her jaw was clenched against pain, but she was alive.

The healer glanced at Claude as he collapsed to his knees beside Petra. Then he grunted and returned to stitching together the edges of the wound together with magic.

“Petra,” Claude said, lost for words. He wanted to hold her, but couldn’t while the healer was working. And he knew that even if it had been possible uncertainty would have held him back. So he just stared at her, feeling the most useless he had felt in his entire life.

“It is all right,” Petra said, searching his face. “Why are you looking for me?”

“You weren’t with the others,” Claude said.

Petra winced as the healer pressed on her stomach. Without thinking, Claude reached out and grabbed her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his, holding on tightly.

“You have never run to the injured before,” Petra remarked.

“I was worried,” Claude said. “The fort was destroyed. It’s…gone. For a moment I panicked, thinking you might still be inside. Might not have heard the order to retreat.”

“You were not needing to be worried,” Petra said.

The healer cleared his throat and stood up.

“All done,” he said. “It wasn’t bad. Deep, but not deep enough to puncture organs. I’m afraid it’ll scar.”

Petra smiled up at the healer. “That is no bother,” she said. “You have my gratitude.”

The healer shrugged. “Don’t do anything strenuous for the next few days. I’ve done what I can, but your body will have to take over from here.”

He ducked out of the booth.

Petra blew out a breath and released Claude’s hand. Claude sat back on his heels, just staring at her, allowing his panic to subside.

“Claude?” Petra said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“If you are not minding…I must get dressed.”

Claude flushed as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll wait outside.”

Claude fled. He paused a moment when he was outside, then circled around the tent to hide behind it. In that limited privacy, he dropped down to a squat and pressed his fists into his eyes. He was an idiot. Now she would know. Not just that he was attracted to her, which he guessed everyone must know by now, but that he liked her. That he cared for her. Oh gods, did he love her?

Claude opened his eyes, throwing his arms over his knees. What a time to realize he was in love. As hell rained down upon Merceus and they marched towards Enbarr and possible death.

**X: For Now**

Byleth yawned, his hand falling to the table.

“I need to rest, Claude,” he said. “We can’t stay awake all night and expect to be able to march in the morning.”

Claude leaned back in his chair, rubbing one eye as he dropped the map of Enbarr.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I just can’t…this is the least underhand plan I’ve ever had. People are going to die, Byleth. There’s no escaping it.”

Byleth sighed. He used the table to push himself to his feet.

“Then I need to spend time with Hilda,” he said.

Claude nodded even while that horrid jealousy roared in his ears. Byleth clapped a hand on Claude’s shoulder and left the tent.

The moment he was alone, Claude pulled the lamp closer, shook his head violently to wake himself up and leaned over the map again. He knew that staring was not going to change things. There wasn’t a better way into Enbarr. Their plan was good. As good as it possibly could be. And people were still going to die.

“Excuse me, Claude?”

Claude scrambled to his feet as Petra leaned through the door of the tent. She didn’t step inside, just let the fabric of the door drape over her head and shoulders.

“Petra,” Claude said, pushing his sleeves down. “Come in. To what do I owe the honor?”

Petra entered with her hands behind her back. The door fell closed behind her, blocking out the night.

“I have something that I am wanting to give you,” she said.

Petra did not look at Claude as she whipped her hand from behind her back. Claude frowned in confusion, then looked down to see a beautiful green and purple feather. He had never seen its like. He reached out and carefully took it.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It is a feather from one of the birds that lives in Brigid,” Petra said. “The most majestic bird. It is a symbol of belonging to royalty. And also it is beautiful.”

Claude held the feather in one hand, using the other to caress the vane.

“You are giving this to me?”

Petra nodded. “It is a tradition of my people to give one of these feathers to a friend when they are doing something important. A friend or…more than a friend.”

Claude thought his heart had stopped. The questions he had about the bird and the tradition and all of that vanished as though they had never existed. He swallowed with difficulty.

“More than a friend?” he croaked.

“You have been always kind to me,” Petra said, scuffing her foot on the ground. “I wanted to be thanking you. So I thought of the feather. My grandfather gave it to me when I left Brigid, but I am certain I will be getting another one when I go home. So you must be keeping this one.”

Claude reverently put the feather down and stepped towards Petra. He didn’t know if he could manage to speak sensibly. But he took Petra’s hand anyway.

“Petra, I…”

He didn’t get to finish. Petra lifted herself onto her toes and pressed her lips against his.

Claude’s heart began to race and his mind fogged as Petra threw her arms around his neck and shaped her body to his. Overwhelmed, Claude grabbed her waist and held her against him as he learned, through blessed experience, how to kiss her back. Her skin was warm under his cold hands, the new scar on her hip rough against his thumb.

When Claude drew back for breath, the confession he had dreaded making for so long fell unhindered from his mouth.

“I want you, Petra,” he whispered.

The words were like an explosion between them, destroying the moment. Petra retreated. A ball of regret and embarrassment lodged in Claude’s throat as he found his arms empty and he realized which version of his confession had escaped.

“Oh gods,” he said. “I’m sorry, Petra. I don’t know what…”

The words died on Claude’s tongue as he dared to look at her. She didn’t look horrified or disgusted or scared. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but otherwise she seemed more curious than anything else.

“Petra?” Claude asked, flinching in anticipation of her response.

Petra stepped up to him again. She reached out with one hand and gently placed it where Claude’s neck met his shoulder. She pulled, urging him towards her.

“I want you too, Claude,” she said.

Claude called up every ounce of self-control in his body and spun away from the kiss. He crossed to the camp bed and dropped onto it. Rubbing his hands together, he tried to talk himself into not falling apart at the seams.

“What is wrong, Claude?” Petra asked.

Claude looked across the tent. She was as still as a startled wyvern. Confused. She had every right to be.

“Petra, do you know what is meant by that phrase?” Claude asked. The tips of his ears were burning, but he did his utmost to ignore it. “What people of Fódlan mean when they say…that?”

“It is meaning you are desiring me as a woman,” Petra answered promptly. “Like I am desiring you as a man.”

Claude hid his face in his hand, unable to bear such an honest explanation.

“Who taught you that?” he asked. He was a little curious, but also mortified that she had understood his brash and entirely spontaneous admission.

“I learned many things while living in Fódlan for so long,” Petra said.

And then the realization that Petra may be more experienced than him (and by that he had to admit that she actually had experience) mortified Claude further. He wished he could go back in time and take back the words, take back the kiss, take back everything.

“Claude, why are you running away from me?” Petra asked, crossing to the bed and sitting beside him. “Are you unwell?”

Claude shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, no. I’m well. I’m just…”

Petra’s face fell.

“Are you changing your mind?”

Claude clasped his hands together, trying to keep them to himself. They were screaming with the recent memory of her skin.

“Gods no,” he said. “I feel the same.”

“Then why?”

Claude took a deep breath. He turned to look at her.

“Petra, have you ever…you know…been with a man?” he asked.

Petra’s eyes widened. Wordlessly, she shook her head. At the same time as her answer made Claude’s heart soar, it increased the number of butterflies waging full war in his stomach.

“Oh. Well, I’ve never…”

Claude trailed off. It was hard to admit aloud. He understood from friends in both Fódlan and Almyra that it was considered unusual, even shameful, for a man his age to have never experienced that particular experience. And the notion of sharing it with someone special had never been an acceptable excuse.

Petra smiled. She turned her body to face him directly and rested a hand on his thigh.

“I am thinking,” she said, leaning towards him, “that being that way with you would be nice.”

Her words were a little different from the ones Claude wanted to hear the most, but he had to concede that they were a million times welcome. And with Enbarr visible on the horizon, for now they were perfect.

“Petra,” Claude said, pressing his hand over hers, “will you stay with me tonight?”

Petra kissed him.

“Yes,” she said.

**XI: A New Struggle**

A murmur pulled Claude from sleep. He winced as he regained consciousness, the stinging in his muscles relentless and strong. Even the old wound from Dimitri’s Relic was aching.

Claude lay still for a moment with his eyes closed. The gentle hum of the camp revealed it was still night. The heaviness from the day’s battle had not faded, which meant he had not been asleep for long enough.

With a groan, Claude rolled onto his side and reached an arm out for Petra, wanting her warmth and softness to mitigate the pain. But there was no one there. Opening his eyes, he saw an empty pillow. Panicking, Claude sat up and cast about the tent, searching by the light of the candle that still burned.

Petra was perched on the very end of the bed, legs drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. Her forehead rested on her knees as her body quivered with muffled sobs.

“Petra?”

Petra tensed and looked over her shoulder. She furiously swiped at her tears. Realizing what the noise that woke him had been, Claude threw back the blanket. He swung his legs over the end of the bed to sit beside her.

“Hey now,” he said gently, putting an around her shoulders, “what’s wrong?”

Petra let her head fall onto his shoulder. Her arms wrapped tight around her knees again.

“I was thinking,” she said. “Too much thinking.”

Claude brushed his fingers through her hair. Being this close to her, being allowed to touch her, was still a luxury. At this moment, Claude could not imagine a moment in time when that would change. Finding her waiting in his tent after the battle had been magical. Helping each other remove their armor while simultaneously checking for injuries, like a moment from another life. Then, after an indulgent soak in Enbarr’s famous baths, collapsing with her onto the bed. Being too exhausted to do anything but pull her close as he drifted to sleep. Heaven.

But as Petra trembled against him, Claude remembered that their lives were battle and hardship. And he could guess why today, of all days, it had become too much for Petra to bear.

“There’s no sense denying grief and no shame in feeling it either,” he said, continuing to stroke her hair. “You taught me that.”

Petra shifted her legs so she could snuggle against him. She reached out a hand and rested it on his bare arm, caressing his skin with her thumb.

“I am having many regrets,” she said. “To only see Dorothea today after five years. To meet her as my enemy. I wanted to be her friend every day for the rest of my life.”

“You didn’t stop being friends just because you ended up on opposite sides of a war,” Claude said.

“Was it so necessary to hurt her, Claude? To kill Edelgard and Hubert?”

Claude sighed. Throughout this entire war they had fought their old classmates. He had tried to avoid bloodshed at every moment, but Ferdinand had been lost at Myrddin and Bernadetta at Gronder. After they had secured Enbarr, Claude had stumbled across Caspar cradling Linhardt’s motionless body, the dirt on his face marked with trails of tears. The knight’s agony and fury as he spat in Claude’s face were things he would never forget. They would haunt him for the rest of his life.

As would the knowledge that if it had not been for Petra’s request to join the Golden Deer so many years ago, today Claude probably would have met her on the battlefield instead of falling asleep beside her. Life truly was a game of chance.

“I don’t have an answer for that, Petra,” Claude said finally. “I’m sorry.”

Petra focused on the shapes she was tracing across his arm.

“I know it is too late to be wondering about it,” she whispered.

Claude tightened his arm around her.

“Was Dorothea…” He paused, unsure of the best way to ask. He realized there was no good way and so decided to wish instead. “I hope she didn’t suffer too much.”

New tears blossomed at the corners of Petra’s eyes. They slipped down the pathways created by their predecessors. Claude released Petra so he could gently wipe them away.

“Marianne took away her pain,” Petra said. “Dorothea held my hand and talked about the academy. She wondered about you. She asked if you had been kissing me yet.”

A slight flush rose in Petra’s cheeks. Claude wondered what her answer had been. Whether she had revealed to Dorothea the thing he wished to know more than anything else in the world, Rhea’s true identity not excluded.

“She died when wishing for no more fighting.”

A sob shook Petra’s body. Claude pulled her into his lap and wrapped both of his arms around her, holding her close as she wept anew. His heart ached twofold: with his own regret at not being able to find a peaceful solution, and with his guilt at what he had forced Petra to do. To fight against the people who had befriended her after she was taken from Brigid. He knew now that, in truth, they had been kind to her as best they knew how. Even Edelgard had, in her own way, given Petra her freedom.

At length, Petra’s tears subsided. She turned her head and rested her cheek against Claude’s chest. He resumed stroking her hair, hoping it would calm her. She must be as weary as he was. Desperate for sleep yet unable to succumb to it.

“Claude.”

Claude’s hand stilled. Petra lifted herself up, but remained in his lap as she looked at him. A breath caught in his throat as he took in her swollen eyes, her red nose and tear-stained cheeks. She looked a mess, but gods, she was beautiful. Even more so for letting him see her this way, broken and vulnerable. Claude’s heart was close to bursting as he realized it meant she trusted him completely.

“Is the fighting over?” Petra asked, her exquisite purple eyes searching his face.

It was the hardest thing in the world to shake his head. But he couldn’t lie to her, of all people, no matter how much he wanted to avoid giving her pain.

Instead of lying, Claude vowed he would spend the rest of his life uniting the world. Just for her. So she would never again have to experience the agony of taking up arms against her friends or being torn away from her family. So she could live happily and without worry.

“Hubert left us a message,” Claude said.

Petra gasped. Understanding, Claude lifted Petra off himself. He crossed to the stand that held his armor and retrieved Hubert’s letter from his quiver, where he had stuffed it for safekeeping.

Petra swung to her knees atop the bed and snatched the letter from him. Her eyes darted across the page as Claude stretched the pain from his arms.

“Then Edelgard was tricked by these people,” Petra said when she finished.

Claude shook his head. He dropped down next to her.

“It seems she agreed to work with them, but planned to dispose of them after they had served their purpose.” Claude chuckled. “Typical Edelgard.”

Petra dropped the letter to the floor and slipped her arms around Claude, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Will you be going to fight these people?” she asked.

Claude nodded. “I need to see this through to the end,” he said. “If these people threaten the dream I have for Fódlan, then they must be defeated.”

Claude closed his eyes, the battle exhaustion suddenly overwhelming with the thought of more fighting. The sounds of the camp drifted around him. Petra’s breath tickled his chin. He inhaled slowly. The scent of her herb soap made his head feel light.

“I will be coming with you.”

The lilt of her voice was like an ointment to his aching muscles. Claude marveled a moment at the illogical effects of being close to a loved one. He had to find a way to keep her beside him.

A corner of his mind screamed the obvious answer, but Claude ignored it. Petra had made it clear that she planned to return to Brigid when this was over. Though she seemed to enjoy his company, even like him, for her this was a temporary arrangement. There were other duties and adventures and people waiting for her in her homeland. Her homeland that was far, so far away, from Almyra.

And Claude was not his mother. He could not pass his duties to a sibling, trust them to take care of things. His plans were too big. Besides, he didn’t even have the privilege of a sibling to take the job.

Claude was drawn from his musings by Petra’s hand tugging on his shoulders, urging him to lay back down. He willingly surrendered, letting his head fall to the pillow. Petra curled up against him, her arm settling around his waist. Claude used one arm to hold her close while the other was quickly commandeered as Petra’s pillow.

“Sleep well, Claude,” Petra whispered.

Claude leaned forward to kiss Petra’s forehead.

“Sleep tight, Squirrel,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer than I thought it would be, but I think worth it?
> 
> I love the idea of Claude’s mum asking Judith to take care of Claude while he’s in Fódlan and Judith immediately taking up the role of embarrassing aunt, but alas there was only room for one scene between them. Also I hope Claude’s progression from Teach to Byleth was natural. Although Claude is definitely one for nicknames, I don’t think he would call his best friend Teach forever.
> 
> Sections of this fic quote or paraphrase in-game dialogue from Petra and Claude’s C+ and B supports, Byleth and Claude’s B support, and the battle in chapter 17 of the Verdant Wind route. I have changed some details to fit with the context of the story.
> 
> Um, again, I had some more ideas while I was writing this. So there may be a third part coming.


End file.
